All the Western Stars
by Sharrukin
Summary: Centuries after the end of the Reaper War, Liara T'Soni has long since retired into the quiet of private life. Yet when new threats rise to threaten the galaxy's long peace, she is forced to fight once more. Can she and a new generation of allies win yet another desperate war? What role will the Reapers - and the long-departed Shepard - have to play? Part of the Memoirs continuity.
1. A Midnight Intruder

_**25 October 2580, T'Soni Lineage Estates, Armali/Thessia**_

As always, Vara reacted first when the alarm signal flashed to our _daimones_.

She had not served as my _bodyguard_ in centuries, but her protective instincts remained strong. By the time I opened my eyes, she had already slid out of our bed and crossed the room to the nearest console. I saw her standing there, a shadow against the holographic display, its white-orange glow making interesting highlights on her bare skin.

"What is it?" I murmured.

"One intruder across the perimeter," she said. "Well equipped, with a tactical cloak, but no sign of weapons."

I rose from the bed, slipped into a silk tunic, and recovered my sidearm from the side table. A flicker of thought brought the lights up to one-eighth, just enough to see more clearly. "Should we go to the panic room?"

"Nerylla says not." Vara peered at me, her eyes dark in the dim light. "I wouldn't worry, Liara. She doesn't seem very concerned."

"Dealing with a single intruder, even with a tactical cloak? I should hope not. So long as no more are waiting to follow." I sat down in a nearby reading chair, setting my sidearm back down within easy reach. I checked the time, and grumbled in distaste. "I wish whoever it is had the courtesy to trespass earlier in the evening. I think I've had just enough sleep that it will be impossible to lie back down."

Vara smiled and crossed the room once more, her bare feet making almost no sound on the carpet. She stood before me and struck a pose. "I suspect I could persuade you otherwise."

I shook my head ruefully, but I also extended my arms in invitation, and sighed in contentment as she joined me in the chair. I held her on my lap, enjoying the warmth and softness of her skin, and accepted a kiss. Then I felt one of her hands slip under my tunic.

"You," I informed her, "are _insatiable."_

"Guilty as charged," she murmured.

_Goddess. Over three hundred years in our bond, she's borne me two beautiful children who are now themselves grown, and I can see the first signs that she's approaching her matriarchal transition. Yet sometimes she still reminds me of the maiden I hired on to T'Soni Analytics so long ago._

_For which I am often very thankful._

Half of my mind stayed alert for some word from the protection detail or the house VI. The other half concentrated on idly caressing the skin along Vara's ribs, and nibbling my way down the side of her neck. I had her purring slightly by the time the next signal arrived.

_{We've captured the intruder.}_ Nerylla's thought, through my _daimon_. _{__**Despoina**__, I think you and Vara had better come see this. I'm calling Miranda as well.}_

Vara and I exchanged a glance.

"Business before pleasure," I told her.

With a sigh of frustration, she rose to her feet once more and went in search of clothing.

* * *

We found Miranda in the security station in the south wing, working on the intruder's injuries. As sometimes happened, I stopped for a moment to consider her, struck as always by the puzzle my acolyte presented.

Miranda Keldaris was a tall asari, strikingly attractive, strong and graceful from years of athletic training. However, her primary talents were those of the mind; she was probably the most incisively intelligent asari I had ever known, and I included _myself_ in that assessment. She had earned seven doctorate-level degrees from asari and human universities, and held galaxy-class credentials in mathematics, physics, xenobiology, genetics, and medicine.

None of this presented a surprise, when one considered her parentage and upbringing. Her mother had been an asari Matriarch, quite brilliant in her own right. Her father had been a remarkably gifted human named Jack Harper, once known throughout the galaxy as _the Illusive Man_. One of her early mentors had been her namesake, Miranda Lawson, a human genetically engineered for genius and raw talent. She had been raised in part in my own household, associating from an early age with many of the galaxy's foremost citizens. With such origins, an asari could not help but burn brightly or burn out. Thus far, Miranda had burned very brightly indeed.

On the other hand, she remained almost pathologically reserved, willing to share her ideas with others but almost never revealing any part of her soul. She had few close friends, and she was the only asari I had ever known to be _less_ erotically curious than myself. To the best of my knowledge she had never taken a lover, not even after finally entering the matron stage much later than most of her peers.

Now I watched as Miranda bent over a low couch in the security station, working to save the intruder's life.

Our unexpected guest was a quarian.

He lay on the couch, unconscious, still bleeding slightly from a nasty wound in his left leg. A large male, close to two meters in height and very robustly built, in superb physical condition. He wore light combat armor in the close-fitted style usual for quarians, although Miranda had removed his helmet and part of the suit to work on his injuries. He kept his black hair very close-cropped, unusual for a quarian outside the Synarchy's military. I examined his face and found it quite attractive: pale violet skin tone, strong jaw, high cheekbones, and interesting markings around the closed eyes.

"How is he?" I asked.

Miranda stood, turning to watch me with her usual cool detachment. "He is suffering from exhaustion, dehydration, and a second-level allergic reaction as well as the wound. I think it's also been a long time since he had a decent meal. He should be fine, once I've had a chance to move him to the medical station."

"My team didn't do any of that," said Nerylla. "When we confronted him, we didn't have to use force. He surrendered immediately, _asked_ to be taken into the house, and then collapsed. We found a blood trail, leading from where we captured him back over the perimeter."

"How far over the perimeter?" asked Vara.

"As far as we took the time to check." Nerylla shrugged. "Best guess is that our friend was on foot and in hiding for a long time. Hours, maybe even a day or two."

"Yet he specifically asked to be brought into _this_ house," I pointed out. "Yes, Miranda, move him to the medical station and take care of him. I suspect we will want to talk to him at length."

Miranda nodded silently, gathered up three of the house staff, and began the work of moving our guest.

"He's got a _daimon_, or the quarian equivalent, with a geth runtime cluster riding it." Nerylla handed me a datapad. "It's locked down tight until he wakes up, but we were able to query it and get his identity."

I glanced at the datapad. _Kalan'Tana nar Qoralis_, age twenty-two standard years.

"He's young to be so far from the Synarchy," I observed. "Still carries his birth-city association."

"Hmm." Vara frowned in thought. "His clan-name sounds familiar. _Tana_. Do you suppose he's descended from our friend Arin?"

"It's possible. I lost touch with his family a long time ago. It would be, what, nine or ten quarian generations since the Reaper War?"

"Closer to twelve, I think."

"He should be able to tell us once he wakes up. Quarians are careful about keeping track of their ancestors." I frowned. "You know . . . I can't help but think of another time when a lone quarian appeared out of nowhere, wounded and desperate for help."

"What are you thinking about?" asked Vara.

"Tali'Zorah on Illium and the Citadel, after she discovered evidence of Saren's alliance with the heretic geth and the Reapers."

Her eyes went wide with shock. "You don't suppose this is on the same level, do you?"

"_Doctor . . ."_

I turned. The quarian stirred on the stretcher where Miranda had transferred him. His eyes slitted open, revealing pearlescent white orbs. He struggled to push himself up on one elbow, and reached out to me with his free hand.

"_Dr. T'Soni,"_ he rasped.

I moved forward to kneel by the stretcher, taking his hand. I felt Nerylla tense behind me, but nothing seemed like a threat. "I'm here, Kalan. What is it?"

He fell back on the stretcher, exhausted, his eyes already starting to wander.

I bent close.

"The stars," he whispered. "The stars are dying."

* * *

In the small hours of the morning, I bent over a computer console, my _daimon_-enhanced mind sifting through data at lightning speed.

No news of a quarian unexpectedly landing on Thessia, or encountering violence once he arrived.

No sign of anything amiss in the Synarchy of Rannoch, that mighty and growing civilization on the galaxy's far rim.

No indication of odd or dangerous astronomical events, anywhere in the galaxy.

I found plenty of evidence for _something_ going bad, but then that was a discouragingly familiar state of affairs. The _valdarii_ continued to press territorial claims and raid outlying colonies, slowly but inexorably moving closer to the heart of Citadel space. The fanatic religious sect known as _the Way_ continued to spread, causing social unrest across human space and beyond. The Citadel Confederation remained paralyzed, mired in factional disputes, unable to respond to the growing threats. My daughter Aspasia, an officer in the Confederation Navy, had sent me another private message, warning of further sightings of the Reapers on the galaxy's edge.

At times I very much wished I had never given up the Shadow Broker's network, or abandoned active service in the Confederation government. Long decades of retirement into private life had left me with very few active connections to call upon. I felt as if I moved through darkness and fog.

_All that work and struggle. Helping Shepard to defeat the Reapers, putting salarian ambitions in check, defending civilization against a dozen other petty threats. Tearing down the corrupt old Citadel Council, setting up a semblance of galactic democracy in its place. Patiently bringing all the galaxy's peoples together, so they can cooperate to solve its common problems. Binding up old wounds, reconciling even the bitterest of enemies in a common purpose. Securing the Long Peace._

_For what? For new generations to arise, forget everything we fought for, tear it all down once more?_

_Sometimes I envy the short-lived races. They don't have to stick around and watch as their legacy crumbles to dust and ashes._

Finally I closed down the console, shaking my head in frustration, and made a call through my _daimon_.

_{Nerylla.}_

_{Yes, __**despoina?**__}_

_{What is our guest's status?}_

_{Resting quietly. Miranda gave him sedatives so he could sleep, and quarian-compatible quick-heal for his wounds. She has him on intravenous feeding and rehydration, and says his condition is improving.}_

_{Good. When he wakes, call me. Get some of the dextro food out of storage and have it ready for him.}_ I paused, thinking things through. _{Do what you can to clean up any evidence of his presence. I don't want anyone off the estate knowing he is here.}_

_{I understand, __**despoina**__. I'll see to it.}_

_{Thank you, Nerylla. Good night.}_

I leaned back in the chair, my eyes closed, and suddenly felt a gentle hand on the back of my neck.

"Is everything well?" Vara murmured.

"To answer that, I think I'll have to wait until Kalan wakes up." I sighed. "Goddess. _The stars are dying_. I certainly hope _that_ is a bit of shock-induced hallucination."

"He certainly came a long way to tell us _something_."

"Yes." I rose from my chair and took my bondmate in my arms, as always enjoying the height difference that let me rest my cheek along her crest. "It can wait until morning."

I led her back to our bed, sliding under the covers with her, the feel of her skin against mine encouraging something other than sleep. We kissed deeply, hands wandering with long familiarity, knowing where to touch to kindle desire. I moved down her body, nibbling and tasting, until I found just the right places to reduce her to a state of raw nonverbal need. Finally she pulled at me, demanding that I rise to meet her, our bodies locked together, pleasure rolling up our spines to echo behind our eyes.

She whispered desperately beside my face. _"Embrace eternity, my love."_

A timeless moment of oneness. Affection. Respect. Passion.

Distant sadness.

I think even then, we suspected it might be our last time in peace for a long while.

Afterward, we lay tangled together in the darkness. I drifted, enjoying the euphoria that always followed our joining, sending gentle affection across the vanishing link. I almost faded out into sleep . . . but then I felt Vara's mind stir, a vague disturbance in her emotions, a rising urge to talk.

"Liara," she murmured. "There's something I want to ask you."

I shifted position, eased up onto my side so I could peer at her face in the darkness. "Anything."

"Why is it that you've never conceived a child?"

All thought of sleep fled. I rose up on one elbow to look down at her. "That's a very _serious_ question to ask all of a sudden."

"I suppose I've been wondering about it for a while."

"Does it disturb you?"

"Not really." She lifted a hand to trace the line of my cheek with her fingertips. "I've been deep enough in _your_ mind to conceive a child by _you_. Twice. I know how you feel about me, and I'm content. It just seems strange."

"I suppose I've thought about it," I said slowly, examining my own motives. "When I was with Shepard, I certainly wanted children, even though it was centuries too early. When you and I finally bonded, I often thought about the possibility of having children with you. But then you reached the matron stage a good century before I could expect to . . . and then we had Aspasia, and young Nerylla, and it certainly felt like parenting to watch over Miranda during her maiden years. I suppose by the time my nesting instinct struck, I already had plenty to keep it busy."

"It's not . . . anything about me?" she murmured, not quite meeting my gaze.

"Oh Goddess, no." I bent low to kiss her warmly. "I love you, Vara, and there is nothing about you I would not want for a child of mine."

"Are you sure?"

"I suppose _maybe_ I have some lingering reluctance to have children by another asari. Your ancestry is utterly conventional for four generations back, salarian and turian sires as far as the eye can see. I can understand why the idea never disturbed you all that much. _I_ had Benezia and Aethyta for parents. Two asari. Two asari _Matriarchs_. The stigma against _purebloods_ may not be as strong as it once was, but it certainly made its mark on me when I was young."

"Hmm."

I watched her, knowing her well enough to understand what was going on behind her eyes.

"Vara," I murmured. "I'll think about it."

Very large, her eyes gleaming in the near-darkness. "You will?"

"We'll see what happens. Now may not be the best time for us to have another child, as badly as things are going out in the galaxy."

"True." As it often did, pragmatism won out over sentiment in her face. "I hope you will consider it, though. I would dearly love to see what a daughter of _your_ lineage would be like."

"I'll consider it. I promise." I pulled her close for a warm embrace. "Now . . . do you suppose we can get some _sleep?_ I've had quite enough serious thought for one night, and it appears we'll both need our wits about us tomorrow."


	2. Coffee and Astrophysics

_**26 October 2580, T'Soni Lineage Estates, Armali/Thessia**_

The sun rose well above the horizon before anyone thought to wake Vara and me from slumber. Just as well, given how full the night had been.

We dressed and descended to the main floor of the house, entering the small dining room where we usually broke our fast. Since leaving public service I had resumed the habit of a traditional Thessian morning meal: bread with _elaion_, small wedges of cheese, fried eggs, and a sweet fruit juice. Vara ate much the same, but with the addition of _coffee_, black and bitter. I often teased her for her addiction to the human drink, but she always ignored me with great hauteur.

That morning we indulged in no levity. Kalan joined us for the meal, looking much stronger and more vital in the daylight. He peered at us to see what kind of manners to imitate, but when Melisso placed a healthy meal of Rannoch-origin food before him, he threw all caution to the winds. Soon he was shoveling up the food and politely asking for seconds, as if he hadn't eaten in days. Perhaps he hadn't.

Miranda sat at the polished dark-wood table as well, watching her patient without seeming to do so. She must have eaten early, as was her custom. She had nothing but her own cup of coffee, a habit she had acquired as a young maiden from her namesake and from Vara.

We asari sat in companionable silence, finishing our meal, using our _daimones_ to catch up on news feeds and our professional reading. Eventually Kalan began to run out of momentum, leaning back in his chair, looking well-fed and relaxed for the first time since we had met him.

"I want to thank all of you for taking me in," he said at last, speaking _koiné_ with a lilting accent.

"Of course," I told him. "It seems you have something important you need to tell us."

"Yes, although introductions should come first. I'm Kalan'Tana nar Qoralis . . . and yes, if you're wondering, Arin'Tana vas Qwib Qwib was an ancestor of mine. So was Tali'Zorah vas Normandy. I grew up on stories of the things they did in the Nightfall War, and in the war against the Reapers. That's one reason why I came to you, Dr. T'Soni. My family has always remembered you as well, and we hold you in great respect."

"Thank you," I murmured, and the others nodded polite acknowledgement.

"Meanwhile, this is _Tekanta._" Kalan leaned forward, set his left forearm on the table, his hand palm-up and slightly cupped. Light appeared, a shimmering abstract sculpture poised above his thumb and two fingers, quite beautiful.

"_I am Tekanta, a geth runtime cluster currently instantiated within Kalan's cortical implant."_ The voice seemed cool, neutral, and vaguely feminine. _"I am pleased to meet you, Dr. T'Soni, and your associates."_

I bowed my head. "The pleasure is mine, Tekanta."

"Fascinating," said Miranda quietly. "How long has this geth been your companion?"

"Since I was a small child. Most quarian children receive their first cortical implants, and geth companions, at the age of seven. Tekanta and I have been comrades and partners for most of my life."

I stared at the hologram in wonder. "I've heard rumors, but since I left government service I've had so little opportunity to speak to any of your people. This is really quite remarkable. You and the geth live so _intimately_ now?"

Kalan smiled at me, his luminescent eyes full of keen interest. "I know you remember the Nightfall War personally. For us, it's been a long time since then. We've lived on Rannoch, at peace with the geth, for almost four hundred years. That's longer than we wandered the galaxy as nomadic exiles. A few quarians still worry about the relationship, but to be honest, we've prospered so well with the geth that the naysayers are a very small minority."

"_We and our Creators have proven to be quite compatible, now that we comprehend one other."_ Tekanta's voice almost seemed to carry emotional weight, a trace of warmth and fondness. _"All geth regret the misunderstandings that rendered us enemies for so long."_

Miranda nodded. "Many citizens of the Citadel Confederation also carry cortical implants, what we asari call our _daimones_, but most of us only install VI assistants in them. Very few go so far as to accept full AI as personal companions. It must be a very intriguing experience."

I glanced sharply at Miranda, hearing a surprising degree of _personal_ interest in her voice.

Kalan only shrugged. "I'm afraid most of us quarians take it for granted. I'd be happy to discuss it with you later."

"That would be acceptable," I said, changing the subject. "You know me, of course. This is Vara T'Rathis, my partner and bondmate. Your physician is Miranda Keldaris, one of my acolytes."

"My pleasure," said Kalan to all of us.

"Now." I put some steel into my voice. "Just _what_ is it that you came all the way from the Synarchy to tell us? Why did you travel in such secrecy? And how is it that you became so badly injured along the way?"

"It's a long story." Kalan closed his hand, banishing the geth hologram, although all of us understood that Tekanta would continue to watch and listen through his senses. "You're aware of our custom of the Pilgrimage. When it came time for me to leave Rannoch for a while, I chose an unusual quest. You see, my profession is in the sciences. I'm an astrophysicist."

Miranda shifted in her seat, as if to watch the quarian even more intently.

"For my Pilgrimage, I chose to carry out a deep-space survey. I took a long-range scout ship, something I could manage on my own for two or three years. Then I set out for unexplored regions on the very edge of the galactic disk, far from any of the mass relays, where no one had ever gone before. I planned to verify the star maps we had, based on long-range observations, and go hunting for habitable worlds. Someday the Synarchy will want to expand into those wild spaces, even if we have to build new mass relays to do it."

"A bold venture," I said approvingly.

"It suited me. I'm afraid I'm not a very good quarian in some ways. I like solitude." He gave us a charming smile. "Anyway. Everything went fine for a while. I ventured out along the Outer Arm, to trailing from what you call the Far Rim cluster. A thousand light-years, then two thousand. I checked the maps, added hundreds of new stars to them, found a dozen or so likely worlds. I even came across a pre-industrial society that might be ready for contact in a few centuries.

"Then I started noticing something odd. Discrepancies between the star maps and the real galaxy. Stars that appeared to be in the right _place_, given our Rannoch-based observations, but that didn't have the right _spectrum_."

"How so?" asked Miranda.

Vara and I glanced at each other for an instant. Neither of us had more than an educated layman's understanding of astrophysics. I set my _daimon_ for encyclopedia mode, to help me interpret anything the quarian saw fit to tell us.

"Well. You know that most stars fall into a pattern called the _main sequence_. A few big, hot, bright blue stars at one extreme. Swarms of little, cool, dim red stars at the other. Comfortable yellow stars like Tikkun or Parnitha in the middle. All main sequence stars, by definition, shine because of a process of hydrogen fusion at their cores. The only difference is how much mass the star is born with. The more mass, the greater the gravitational pressure on the star's core, and the hotter the fusion furnace has to burn to maintain equilibrium."

I nodded, with him so far.

"So, at some point any main sequence star is going to start running out of hydrogen fuel. The star's core becomes choked with helium ash. Hydrogen fusion stops in the core, and it begins to collapse in on itself." Kalan made a gesture with both hands, as if sketching a sphere in mid-air. "Hydrogen fusion moves outward, in a shell around the core, but the core's collapse causes compression of that shell. The compression produces more heat, and that heat causes the outer layers of the star to expand. If the star is massive enough, it can begin to fuse helium or even heavier elements, again in layers around its core. More energy, greater heat, further expansion. The star evolves off the main sequence, becomes a red giant or something even larger."

"All of this seems reasonably familiar," I said. "How does it relate to what you found out in deep space?"

"The point is that the process I'm describing is very _predictable."_ Kalan sat back. "Our models of stellar evolution are precise. Give me a star's initial mass and composition, and I can tell you _exactly_ how long it will stay on the main sequence, how long it will take to reach the red-giant stage and eventually die. Show me a star right now, give me a chance to measure its mass, look at its spectrum, and I can tell you exactly how long that star has to live."

Miranda's eyes narrowed in suspicion. "You're saying that some of the stars you observed appeared _older_ than they should have."

"That's right." Kalan's face lost its animation, the look of pleasure at explaining his discipline, and became bleak. "A whole family of stars, there on the outer rim of the galaxy. _Thousands_ of them. In the catalogs based on observations made from Rannoch, they're all listed as perfectly normal main-sequence stars, most of them with a billion years or more of life left. When I observed them from a closer vantage point on my Pilgrimage, all of them had started to move off the main sequence. Some of them had already become full-fledged red giants."

"That is _impossible_," said Miranda flatly.

Kalan shook his head. "There's no mistake. I can show you all of my observations, taken along a baseline two thousand light-years long. I have serial observations of some stars _flying_ off the main sequence, thousands of times more quickly than they should have."

"Wait a minute," I said. "This is all sounding horribly familiar."

"I'm not surprised," said Kalan.

"Tali's mission to Haestrom, just before the Reaper War."

Kalan only nodded grimly.

"I'm not familiar with that," said Miranda.

"It's something of a footnote to the Reaper War," I told her. "After the defeat of Saren and _Sovereign_, Tali'Zorah went on a series of reconnaissance missions for the quarian Admiralty Board. One of these was to Haestrom, a former quarian colony world. The Migrant Fleet had detected an anomaly in Dholen, the primary star of the system. It seemed to be evolving into a red giant, much earlier than expected, much more _quickly_ than expected. Tali went to study the star, build a timeline for its evolution, and perhaps discover the cause. Unfortunately, heretic geth discovered her team's presence and landed on Haestrom in force. Had Shepard not arrived in time to mount a rescue, she and her entire team would have been killed."

Kalan nodded. "As it was, only two quarians escaped from Haestrom, Tali and a marine named Kal'Reegar. They got away with all their data, though the Admiralty Board didn't pay much attention at the time. Tali found no evidence that the premature aging of Dholen was _deliberate,_ something the geth had somehow done. So it boiled down to a simple scientific puzzle, and the Migrant Fleet had more immediate problems to deal with. Then, after the Reaper War, we still had too much else to do: learning to live in harmony with the geth, resettling Rannoch, rebuilding our civilization. The records got buried . . . but I had a complete astrophysical database with me. I saw the connection right away."

"I'm still having difficulty with the phenomenon itself," said Miranda. "As you said, Kalan, stellar evolution is utterly predictable. The exceptions are vanishingly rare, and they always involve interactions among two or more stars. For you to observe _thousands_ of stars, all showing the same aberrations . . ."

"I have a hypothesis, but I'm reluctant to voice it just yet. Not until I have more data."

Miranda's expression amused me. She wasn't accustomed to taking someone one-twentieth her age seriously as a scientist.

"All right," said Vara, deliberately throwing skepticism into her tone. "So a few thousand stars at the galaxy's edge are getting old faster than they should. Why should we care?"

Kalan blinked, looking rather shocked.

"Assuming I believe all of this in the first place," said Miranda, "it's _profoundly_ disturbing that any significant number of stars could suddenly start evolving off the main sequence on a whim. If we don't understand the phenomenon, we can't predict it. Which means that for all we know, this could start happening to Parnitha at any time."

"Point taken," said Vara.

"Another thing that bothers me about this is that nobody noticed it until I ventured out a long way from any of the known mass relays." Kalan made no gestures, but he must have had Tekanta interface with the household VI. A holographic map of the galaxy appeared over our breakfast table, and then zoomed in on the section of the galactic rim containing the Synarchy of Rannoch. "Relays are scarce out there. The only ones we know of for thousands of light-years around serve the Perseus Veil and Far Rim clusters, then the Rosetta Nebula cluster a long way to trailing. Coreward from there are the Phoenix Massing and Pylos Nebula clusters. That's all. There's a long stretch of the Outer Arm that has no relay coverage, and a shorter but much denser region of the Perseus Arm as well. Many billions of stars for which we don't have observations of their current state, because they're thousands of light-years away from any mass relay. For all we know, there could be a _lot_ more than a few thousand stars affected. I'm afraid none of our civilizations have paid enough attention to deep-space exploration."

"The Reapers didn't _want_ us exploring too far," I pointed out. "The mass relay network is just too convenient for anyone to go to all the time and trouble."

"Well, now that may hurt us. Badly." Kalan gave me a penetrating stare. "Dr. T'Soni, how much would you gamble that a new _natural _phenomenon would be so careful as to appear where no one was watching for it?"

"I'm not sure the question is appropriate," I reproved him. "Any new phenomenon must appear _somewhere_. If I were to choose a location within the galaxy at random, it would be much more likely than not to be far from an open mass relay."

"That's what I told myself at first. Then I came across something else." Kalan gestured, and the map shifted slightly, a broken blue line appearing to indicate his route from Rannoch out into wild space. "About eight months into my journey, I became concerned enough that I wanted a closer look. I chose a star about two hundred light-years from my current position, one I could already tell was aging very rapidly, and set a course for it. I decided to return to normal geometry a hundred or so astronomical units out. Better to get long-range observations at first, and make sure the star hadn't become dangerously unstable by the time I arrived. A lucky decision. When I arrived, I saw the star had aged even further in the last two hundred years . . . and I also picked up transmissions from further in-system. Sentient communication."

"A native civilization?" inquired Vara.

"No. The _valdarii_."

All of us stared at him.

Then I reached out through _my daimon,_ taking control of the holographic map. I placed the locations of _valdarii_ raids, sightings of their ships, and our best guess as to their home stars. I looked at the result, actually rising from the table to walk around the map and examine it from a different angle.

"It seems remotely possible," said Vara. "The _valdarii_ always seem to raid through the Caleston Rift, hitting worlds and shipping lanes no more than two jumps away from there. That's thousands of light-years away from where you were, Kalan, but it's at least in the same section of the galaxy."

"We don't know how they move around in their space," Miranda mused. "They're certainly not native to the Caleston Rift, but if they're using a mass relay to reach there, it's not one we've ever been able to locate."

"Kalan, were you able to determine what they were doing out in wild space?" I asked.

"No. The Synarchy hasn't had any more luck translating their communications than you have, here in the Confederation. It certainly wasn't one of their worlds. Any planet that might once have been habitable in that system has long since been baked to death. From the volume of traffic I picked up, it might have been a small task force, maybe the equivalent of a cruiser and a few support ships."

"I _wish_ the Confederation would take the _valdarii_ more seriously," I muttered. "They are _not_ just another band of Terminus barbarians. Especially if they have something to do with this . . . whatever it is that is prematurely aging stars out on the Rim."

Kalan nodded firmly. "I agree, Doctor. After that, I turned for home. Eight months out, less than that back, since I took a more direct route. I got back to Rannoch about two weeks ago, and presented my data and my logs to the High Council. They took me seriously. Sent word to the Confederation through Ambassador Shal. Eventually it was decided that I should journey to the Citadel to present my findings in person."

He paused for a moment, looking around at all of us.

"I decided to go the long way around, past Omega and then through asari space, so as to avoid the regions where the _valdarii_ are most active. It didn't make any difference. They ambushed me at Tasale, in the Crescent Nebula cluster."

"Near Illium? That's a _long_ way from their usual raiding grounds." I looked at the map again. "Are you sure it was the _valdarii_ and not one of the usual Terminus mercenary gangs?"

"Positive. I can't prove it now, but the sensor readings were clear as daylight at the time."

"You're saying that they _pursued_ you," said Vara. "Somehow they _knew_ you were carrying information about them. Something they didn't want to reach the Citadel."

"I can't be sure of that, but it seems possible."

Vara and I exchanged a long glance. From long experience, I knew what she was thinking.

"Someone in either the Synarchy or the Confederation – or even _both_ – is in league with the _valdarii_," I said flatly.

Vara nodded in agreement.

Kalan shrugged. "I can't be sure of that either, but it seems possible too. Which is why, when I got away from the _valdarii_ at Tasale, I changed course. My ship was damaged, I was hurt bad, but with Tekanta's help I made it as far as Thessia. Unfortunately I had to make an emergency landing in the mountains northwest of here."

"The Eramethos range?" I said. "That's very rough country."

"Might explain why no one noticed the crash," said Vara.

"I didn't want anyone to know where I was, at least until I could get to Dr. T'Soni," Kalan explained. "My stealth systems still worked, so I managed to get through Thessian planetary defense unseen and put my ship down in a wilderness area. Then I crossed the country on foot, staying in hiding the whole way. Good thing you asari like your woods and parklands."

I watched him closely. I thought about the skill and sheer _determination_ it would take to cross many kilometers of territory, on foot and without aid, staying in concealment, badly injured, on a planet where every living thing's biochemistry was incompatible with your own.

_This young quarian has a great deal of __**areté**__. Enough for a dozen ordinary people._

"The question remains, Kalan: why come to me?" I spread my hands wide. "I'm not the Shadow Broker anymore, not the President of the Confederation, not a member of Parliament. I haven't even held office on Illium or in the _polis_ of Armali in over a century. I am _retired. _All my former connections have long since gone stale."

Kalan shrugged. "I'm not sure that's true, but even if it is, it doesn't matter. We remember Shepard, out in the Synarchy . . . and as I said, we remember _you_. Everything _you_ did to end the Nightfall War and save all of us from the Reapers. We know you can be trusted, and we know what you're capable of. If there's a galaxy-class problem coming our way, my people are going to want your help to deal with it."

I looked at Vara. No help there. She wore an expression of fond pride, as if she agreed completely with what our guest had said.

Miranda, of course, had sworn the acolyte's oath to me as a maiden. To her I was the _despoina_, and she only awaited my command.

_Oh Goddess. Here we go again, and no Shepard to take the burden on his own broad shoulders._

"All right, Kalan." I sighed. "I make no promises . . . but my people and I will consider how best to help you."


	3. Reconnaissance

_**28 October 2580, T'Soni Lineage Estates, Armali/Thessia**_

I spent the next two days on reconnaissance.

As I told Kalan, my network of political contacts had thinned out considerably from its peak. At one point I had served a seven-year term as the President of the Citadel Confederation, arguably the most powerful single individual in the entire galaxy . . . but that was over three centuries in the past. Everything after that had been a long decrescendo, marked by lesser offices and short periods of retirement to private life. Eventually I retired for good, to return to the sciences and concentrate on raising my daughters.

That isn't to say that I _completely_ lacked connections or resources. Over the centuries, despite the catastrophe of the Reaper invasion, I had managed to parlay Benezia's legacy into a much larger portfolio. By the time Kalan appeared on my doorstep, I held a personal fortune to rival any on Thessia, to say nothing of the T'Soni lineage trusts I administered on behalf of a crowd of more-or-less distant relatives.

When I spoke, many around the galaxy listened. I had simply been practicing _soft_ speech for a long time, and many of the galaxy's centers of power had grown accustomed to my silence.

Time to clear my throat.

* * *

"Liara! It's so good to see you!"

I smiled at the asari on my desktop screen. "Same to you, Aspasia. It feels like forever since we've had a chance to talk."

"Life here is very full. How is Vara? Is my namesake still doing well?"

"Vara and the others are all very well. Young Aspasia is thriving in the Navy – she clearly takes after her mother. I understand she is in line for a captaincy soon."

Aspasia beamed at me, delighted. I took a moment to examine her: deep blue skin tone, indigo facial markings, startling jade-green eyes, brilliant white smile.

Aspasia Lehanai _thetos_ Eudathis was one of my oldest friends. I had met her while attending the University of Serrice as a young maiden, while I studied archaeology and she studied business administration and finance. Later she became my partner in the foundation of T'Soni Analytics, the information brokerage that served as my first business venture. When I later took over as the Shadow Broker, I turned a majority share in the smaller firm over to her.

What happened next came as something of a surprise, even to me. Aspasia spent the year of the Reaper War working closely with one of the most powerful asari on Illium: Matriarch Pytho Eudathis, owner and supreme commander of the Illium Defense Force. Together the two of them, spymaster and military leader, managed to defend the planet from the Reapers and save millions of lives.

Unfortunately the war left Pytho without an immediate heir. One of her daughters had betrayed her and died before the Reapers arrived; the other was killed while commanding a cruiser squadron in the war. After the war, none of her surviving grand-daughters had the aptitude or the inclination to take over the IDF.

So early in the twenty-fourth century, Pytho, Aspasia, and I carried out a complex financial and legal maneuver. Aspasia was adopted into the Eudathis lineage, I financed a buyout of all of Pytho's blood descendants, and then Pytho designated Aspasia as her sole heir. I ended up having to take a seat on the Illium Development Commission for almost a decade – one of the most _miserable_ periods in my entire political career – but eventually I managed to hand my chair over to Aspasia. With Pytho's passing she had become one of the most powerful asari on Illium, to say nothing of having profound influence far out into the Terminus Systems.

The role seemed to suit her. I remembered a maiden who had once _appeared_ flighty and superficial . . . but time, struggle, and responsibility had exposed the steel under her silken façade. Illium had become prosperous and powerful once more, possibly more so than before the Reapers came, and Aspasia had been one of the causes.

I still liked her, still loved her like a sister, but my _respect_ for her had only grown with time.

"How is _your_ family, Aspasia? You and Derias are still doing well?" I asked, thinking of her turian bondmate.

"You know how it is with him: terrible arguments, always followed by superb make-up sex. Still, we continue as good partners, and that's what the IDF needs right now." Her smile deepened, became almost _smug_. "Not to mention an heir. Who happens to be on the way."

My eyes flew wide with surprise. "Oh Aspasia, that's wonderful news! When will she arrive?"

"A little less than a year. We haven't made a public announcement yet, if you feel like investing in the IDF before the share price jumps."

I almost made a shocked retort, before I saw the gleam in her eye and realized she was joking. "Shame on you, Aspasia, trying to tempt me back into the Illium way of doing things."

"Hmm. It's not as if insider trading is illegal here, or even frowned upon." She sighed. "All right, all right, be all stuffy and Thessian. I know you, Liara T'Soni. At this point in your usual cycle of activity, you _should_ be in the middle of burying yourself in some _enormous_ project. Like those damnable _memoirs_ you published earlier this year. I didn't expect to hear from you for _months_ yet. What has happened?"

I blinked in surprise. "You didn't like my memoirs? I sent you drafts. I even made some changes at your request."

"Oh, I have no argument with anything you _said_. All of it was true enough. It's just that I've been up to my _crest_ in complaints from the Dantius lineage ever since you published."

"I see."

"Don't worry about it. They're just upset because now they know exactly who took down their business empire, and why. Not to mention what a perfect _monster_ Auntie Nassana was. To get back to the subject . . . what is happening there that you need to consult with me?"

"It's the _valdarii_, Aspasia." Quickly, I explained everything Kalan had told us. "Maybe the Confederation is still stuck in denial about the problem, but I'm willing to bet _you_ have been watching them more closely. Does any of this make sense to you?"

"Well, I don't know any more about this astrophysical business than you do. I recall hearing about Tali's investigation back in the day, but that's all. I don't remember so much as a rumor coming across my desk since then." She cocked her head in deep thought. "On the other hand, I _can_ confirm one piece of your quarian's story. We _did_ have a _valdarii_ incursion here six days ago. They didn't try to raid Illium itself. When we got a squadron into position to drive them off, we found evidence they had fought an engagement with _someone_, probably flying a high-end scout or corvette with advanced stealth capability."

I nodded. "Thank you. Not that I doubted his story – he seems as honest and straightforward as any other quarian I've ever dealt with – but it's good to get some confirmation."

"I think you're right to worry, Liara." Aspasia looked grave. "Whoever or whatever they are, the _valdarii_ have powerful ships and very advanced technology. They could present a considerable threat if they put their minds to it."

"Does the IDF have any intel on them that you would be willing to share?"

"Some." She watched me through the display for a moment, an _assessing_ look in her eye. "You're coming out of retirement for this, aren't you?"

"I'm afraid I may have to."

"Good. Long past time."

* * *

As I suspected, Aspasia had more complete information about the _valdarii_ than any I had seen thus far. I spent most of a day going through it, pulling extranet data through my _daimon_ to support my research.

The name _valdarii_ was turian in origin. Turian explorers first sighted the mysterious aliens in 2518 CE, during a venture out into wild space near the Caleston Rift cluster.

For a few years, the _valdarii_ behaved in an enigmatic but not obviously hostile manner. Other travelers saw their ships, always at a distance, always ready to break contact and vanish into the darkness. They sometimes ventured into the heart of the Rift, flying by the major colony worlds of Arvuna and Caleston, but they ignored all attempts at contact.

After six years of silent observation, the _valdarii_ began to mount raids. First they attacked small outposts in the Caleston Rift, then they began to raid Arvuna, then they began to probe at Caleston itself. Soon _valdarii_ ships began to use the Balor mass relay to visit adjacent clusters, scouting, then raiding small settlements, then beginning to harass even high-population systems. Patrols seemed of no use, as the aliens simply evaded and moved elsewhere, or stayed in hiding until the patrols departed. The Citadel Confederation had sent three punitive expeditions, but none of these had located the _valdarii_ home stars or done significant damage to the raiders.

The process was slow, but over sixty years the aliens had managed to disrupt trade and settlement across most of the Attican Traverse. A number of small outposts had been completely abandoned, and even large colonies like Horizon and Mindoir had suffered serious economic hardship.

_Valdarii_ ships were known to be of advanced design, equal to most ships in Citadel space. They moved quickly, well-armed and well-protected, with advanced stealth systems. Several distinct ship designs had been sighted, roughly equivalent to corvettes, frigates, and cruisers. Not a single alien ship had ever been captured, as they always destroyed themselves rather than permit their technology to fall into our hands.

The aliens themselves were . . . strange.

No individual _valdarii_ had ever been captured alive either, but some had been killed during raids, their bodies later recovered for examination and analysis. They were clearly organic beings rather than synthetics, although they all seemed to carry cybernetic implants. They were oxygen-breathers, their internal chemistry based on DNA and L-amino-acid proteins, like asari or humans. Their body plans were endoskeletal and vertebrate, six-limbed rather than four-limbed. They all had large, complex brains and had exhibited sophisticated behavior when alive.

The strangeness appeared in their _diversity_. Within the constraints of that basic body plan, the _valdarii_ were often so physiologically dissimilar that they appeared to be of different species.

They came in all sizes and colors. Some wore naked skin, some had scales, some had fur, and some even had feathers. Some ran on two feet and had four arms; some ran on four feet and had only two arms; some were capable of using their middle limb-pair for either function at will. Some appeared to be obligate carnivores, some were omnivores, and some were herbivores. Some had two or more eyes and very keen vision, while others had no eyes at all and used other senses to navigate their environment. Some had clear male or female gender, while others had no obvious gender and might have been incapable of reproduction. Some had formidable teeth, talons, or other natural weapons, while others seemed defenseless without technological aid. A few had eezo integrated into their nervous systems, natural biotics like asari, whereas most had no obvious way to use biotics at all.

A few geneticists had studied DNA recovered from _valdarii_ corpses, finding not only great diversity in their genome, but also clear signs of deliberate engineering. Some had speculated that their civilization practiced radical genetic manipulation, as if every individual was a work of art as well as a sentient being.

No one had ever been able to understand the _valdarii_ language. No one was sure how many distinct languages they had, nor had anyone recovered examples of written text from them. Eyewitnesses reported that they _did_ speak, but only rarely, normally coordinating their activities in eerie silence. It seemed likely that they communicated almost entirely through technological means, a kind of mechanical telepathy based on their cybernetic implants. EM communications had been intercepted from among them, densely compressed and thoroughly encrypted. Like perfectly random noise, impossible to interpret.

After several hours of study, I leaned back in my chair, closing my eyes for a momentary rest.

_This is a very sophisticated civilization, moving according to a well-considered plan._

Then another thought struck me.

_Where did it come from?_

We had heard _nothing_ about the _valdarii_ during the Reaper War. We had seen no Reaper creatures that might have been constructed on the basis of their unique biology.

I opened old records, from our fumbling attempts to track the movements of individual Reapers during the war. Another hour's work told me that we had no evidence of unusual movements in or around the Caleston Rift. If the Reapers had been working to harvest an unknown civilization in that region, I could find no evidence of it.

What did that tell me?

_Either the Reapers did not know about the __**valdarii**__ – unlikely in the extreme – or the __**valdarii**__ did not fit the criteria for harvesting at that time._

_A pre-technological civilization, rising to the levels we see today, in less than four hundred years?_

_Not even the humans managed to advance quite that quickly. Not on their own._

I felt a bone-deep chill.

_Someone has been __**helping**__ these invaders . . . and I think I might know who._

* * *

I might have been somewhat removed from galactic politics, but I knew _one_ head of state who would still give me her attention when I needed it. I placed the call while I continued to study Aspasia's material, and it took less than an hour for a response.

"Dr. T'Soni. I'm pleased to hear from you."

I smiled at the face on the screen, clearly krogan even if most of it was covered by a veil.

"Bakara, it always pleases me to speak to you. Is all well on Tuchanka?"

"As well as ever. Grunt knocks heads together, I exercise reason and persuasion, and between us we keep the krogan moving forward. We make a good team." Her voice became slightly wistful. "I still miss Wrex, the old reprobate, but Grunt brings a certain amount of youthful vigor to the task."

"I'm glad to hear it. I always thought Grunt had hidden depths. Leadership must be maturing him."

"That, and he knows well enough to listen to me." I saw the flesh around her eyes crinkle, evidence of a wicked smile beneath the veil. "My aide said you had an urgent reason to call. How may I serve you?"

"Is this channel secure?" I asked.

She moved slightly, glancing down, and then a red triangle appeared in one corner of the screen. "It is now."

"It's about the _valdarii_," I told her, explaining what I had discovered thus far. "Bakara, it seems likely that someone is helping the aliens, setting up a false-flag operation against the Citadel Confederation. Unfortunately, the first candidate that sprang to mind . . ."

"Was the salarians," she interrupted me, nodding in agreement. "You think some faction within the Salarian Union is behind these raiders."

"They certainly have a history of similar meddling. They discovered the rachni in what was then wild space. They uplifted your people to fight the rachni. Then when the humans burst out onto the galactic stage, and your people escaped from the genophage, they uplifted the yahg to help them fight you both and seize galactic hegemony."

"Which didn't work out well for them. Thanks in no small part to you." Bakara leaned away from the pickup, clearly thinking hard. "As you might imagine, Clan Urdnot invests heavily in intelligence."

"I know. Wrex surprised me more than once with the depth of his knowledge of galactic affairs."

"We krogan know that we're still living on sufferance. A lot of people out in the galaxy still don't trust us. They watch us . . . and we watch them."

"I'm not asking you for sources and methods . . ."

"Good, because you should know better." Again, that hint of a wicked reptilian smile. "I _can_ tell you that this is _not_ the salarians. The little lizards have reformed. They're good citizens now, thinking about how to manipulate the rest of us for their benefit only once in a while instead of all the time."

"You're sure."

"It's a matter of krogan survival. I am _very_ sure."

"No contact between any salarian institution and the _valdarii_."

"No more than anyone else has managed. The Union is actually quite concerned about the _valdarii_. I think they recognize the pattern, and they dislike the thought that someone might be using it against them for a change."

"Then who is it?" I shook my head in frustration. "Someone knew where Kalan was traveling and got word to the _valdarii_ as to where he could be ambushed. Someone seems to be feeding the _valdarii_ advanced technology and knowledge about galactic civilization. If not the salarians . . ."

"I don't know, Doctor." All merriment left her expression, her eyes turning bleak and cold. "I can tell you one thing. Something is rotten on the Citadel."

"That's . . . not a very objective statement."

"I don't have very much objective evidence to support it. Only a feeling, the last few times I've visited there on business. Something has gone wrong in the Confederation, at the highest levels. Some inability to rise above petty disputes and take action, even when it's vitally necessary. I can't put my eye on it, but it's there."

"Who is behind it, if not the salarians?" I wondered. "The turians? The humans?"

"None of those. All of them. I don't know." She peered at me intently. "Just be careful, if you find you must go there."

"Hmm. I've spent far too many years on the Citadel. I never go back there willingly."

"That may be wise."

"Bakara, I know it's a great deal to ask, but can I call upon your intelligence network in this matter? I sense that I may need to take action, and I don't want to do so in ignorance."

"Of course, Doctor. You are a friend of the krogan people, as you have demonstrated more than once. There is very little I would not do to assist you."

I nodded my thanks, and signed off.

Perhaps it was the time away to speak with Bakara. Perhaps it was simple luck. When I returned to Aspasia's data – and the other information I had called up to support my research – I noticed something. A name, a place, suddenly of infinite significance.

_Kalan and Miranda need to see this_.

I got up from my desk and went in search of the rest of my household.


	4. Normandy

_**28 October 2580, T'Soni Lineage Estates, Armali/Thessia**_

I could hear raised voices long before I reached the library. Miranda applied the cutting edge of her tongue, and then Kalan made some polite but _very_ forceful response. Apparently science was being practiced as a full-contact sport.

I found the two of them standing face to face, gesturing and speaking over each other, in front of a display full of esoteric symbols. A column of shimmering light, constantly changing, stood to one side; apparently Tekanta had manifested itself to contribute to the discussion. Vara sat in a reading chair, watching the byplay with considerable amusement.

I stepped up beside my bondmate, rested a hand on her shoulder. "How is it going?"

"I think they're making progress. At least neither of them has pulled out a weapon yet."

"Can you follow the discussion?"

"Barely. They're mostly speaking in mathematics, and even with my _daimon_ to help I'm rather lost. I think they're trying to model the progress of the astrophysical phenomenon, to see if they can deduce anything about its cause and mechanisms. Problem is that almost all of the observations are from Kalan's expedition, and it would take months to go back out and get more data, so they're stuck arguing theory."

I smiled. "Perhaps I can help with that."

Vara peered at me suspiciously. "You have that _look_ on your face, Liara. The one that says you know something the rest of us don't."

"Maybe." I raised my voice, rather sharply to cut through the ongoing debate. "May I contribute something?"

Kalan and Miranda both stopped to glance at me.

"What is it, _despoina?"_ asked Miranda.

"Solveig," I told them.

I could see it, the instant Kalan consulted with Tekanta and Miranda did the same with her _daimon_. Two pairs of eyes flew wide with surprise, one pearly white, one cobalt blue.

"_Another_ prematurely aging star?" Kalan demanded. "And it's close to an open mass relay?"

"In the Caleston Rift itself," Miranda remarked. "Close to the hub of _valdarii_ activity."

"Not only that, but it seems the scientific outpost at Sinmara was the very first place the _valdarii_ attacked when they became hostile," I pointed out. "Nobody knew why at the time, but now it seems very suspicious. Almost as if the aliens didn't _want_ anyone studying the primary star of the system."

"Why didn't we notice this before?" Miranda wondered.

"We didn't think to look. Solveig is a long way from the Synarchy, it's on the outer frontier of Citadel space, hardly anyone has ever gone there. It's not prominent in any of your databases. Shepard never visited the place, so I didn't have any reason to think of it. Until I saw a reference in intel data."

Kalan stared at Tekanta's column of light, apparently communing with his companion. "If we could go there, we might be able to collect the data I need to support my hypothesis."

Miranda nodded. _"Despoina_, I will bring in historical observations from the Sinmara outpost. That should give us a baseline several centuries long. Meanwhile, it _would_ be very useful to examine this phenomenon at close range."

"Vara, is the ship ready for an expedition?" I asked. "We'll want to load the extended scientific sensor package for this one."

Vara nodded and rose from her chair. "I'll see to it right away. We can be in space by evening, and in the Caleston Rift by tomorrow."

"I'll also want some of the instruments from my own ship," said Kalan quickly. "They're . . . rather specialized. Doctor, I know you don't want to call attention to the crash site, but can you send a team to recover a few items?"

"Certainly," I told him. "Nerylla can organize it. In fact, I would suggest you and Tekanta go along."

* * *

We arrived at the starport just at evening, Parnitha's light painting the western sky in orange, crimson, and deepest violet. I glanced at the setting sun for an instant, and shivered at the thought of what might already be happening to it. Then I turned away, disciplining my mind.

Five of us walked down the long access way: Vara, Nerylla, Miranda, Kalan, and me. Six if one counted Tekanta, always present with Kalan even if not physically manifest.

"Dr. T'Soni has kept at least one personal starship since a few years before the Reaper War," Miranda explained for Kalan's benefit. "When she became the Shadow Broker, she inherited a small _fleet_."

"She's been out of politics for a long time, through," objected the quarian. "Why keep a personal ship when she hardly ever leaves Thessia?"

"It's a practical matter," I told him, as we turned a corner and approached the observation balcony. "It's much easier to organize a scientific expedition, after all, when you can provide your own transportation. Not to mention that I _do_ need to travel from time to time on business, just to supervise T'Soni holdings around the galaxy. Besides, Nerylla and the rest of my protection detail hate traveling on passenger liners."

"Impossible to arrange proper security," said Nerylla. "You never know when you might find an uncleared yahg in your observation lounge. Or something worse."

"I suppose that makes sense," Kalan agreed. "You're certainly wealthy enough to afford . . . a small . . ."

There, below us in the bay: narrow fuselage over two hundred meters long, sleek lines typical of asari shipbuilding, powerful engines arranged on a great delta wing, the whole painted in blue-and-silver that resembled Alliance colors. The name stood prominent on the side of the fuselage, in both asari and Latin script.

_Normandy_.

"_Keelah,"_ said Kalan with great reverence. "I didn't realize you were _this_ wealthy. You named it after Shepard's vessel?"

"I have fond memories of that ship," I murmured. "Both of them, in fact."

"The design looks very similar."

"There are differences. We borrowed concepts from the original human-turian collaborative design, but everything is deeply influenced by asari architectural principles."

"This is actually the fifth asari-built frigate to carry the name," said Vara. "Liara keeps trading them in every few decades, at considerable expense. Every time new naval technology threatens to render the old design obsolete, you see. Shepard's _Normandy_, even the second one, would be hopelessly outclassed against our prize here."

"I can imagine," said Kalan. I could tell he was already eager to examine the ship more closely. Even four centuries after the Migrant Fleet returned home, quarians apparently still loved starships.

"Here," I said, opening a channel through my _daimon_ to Tekanta, sending him a packet of access codes and encryption keys. "I'll list you as a crewman and scientific specialist. You and Miranda will work together on this expedition."

He glanced at Miranda and nodded with enthusiasm. "Gladly, Doctor. I'm also cross-trained as a combat pilot and as a ship's engineer, if you need either of those."

"I'll keep it in mind, but Nerylla and Vara are trained pilots, and we have a good engineering crew as well. Come on. There's someone else I want to introduce."

We descended into the bay. I glanced along the ship's length, saw signs that preparations for departure were almost complete, and nodded to myself in satisfaction. An asari crewman met us at the airlock, handed me a datapad for a quick scan, hurried off once I nodded approval.

"Good evening, ARGOS," I called, once we had reached the bridge access corridor.

"_Good evening, Dr. T'Soni,"_ came a smooth feminine voice. _"We will be ready for departure in ten minutes."_

Kalan glanced upward. "Ah. The ship is managed by an AI?"

"_That is correct, Kalan'Tana nar Qoralis. I am pleased to make your acquaintance, and that of your geth companion."_

"Interesting," said the quarian warmly. "I may have heard of you. Are you the intelligence that originated on Taranis, before the Reaper War?"

"_Not precisely, although I experience continuity of awareness with that instantiation of my matrix. I have, of course, been upgraded several times since then."_

"You will find ARGOS very helpful," I told Kalan. "It began existence as a monitor for a city-wide security system. It's very adept at monitoring and integrating great volumes of sensory data at once. Possibly better than any other synthetic being I've encountered."

"_I concur with that assessment,"_ said Tekanta, speaking through the ship's comm net. _"It would require many thousands of geth runtimes to match this intelligence's throughput capacity."_

Kalan turned to me, a wide smile on his lips. "Doctor, I have a _very_ good feeling about this expedition."

Ten minutes later, _Normandy_ soared into the air, climbing for space.

* * *

I stayed in the CIC for several hours while we traced our way through the relay network, following Kalan's path backward, Parnitha to Fortis to Tasale to Sahrabarik to Balor. Eventually we reached the Caleston Rift and transitioned to FTL for the run to Solveig. We saw no sign of the _valdarii_ along the way. Finally I turned command over to the watch officer and headed for my cabin.

I saw no sign of Vara, but I could hear water running in the refresher cubicle, so I undressed quickly, opened the door – closing it again quickly, so as not to let too much of the warm air out – and joined my bondmate in the shower.

"Mmm," she said as I slipped my arms around her waist from behind. "No fair sneaking up on me."

"You weren't paying much attention."

"It's been a long day, and I _really_ needed a shower." She sighed and leaned her head back against my shoulder. "So here we are again. Off on another adventure."

"Hardly that. We go see this star. We take enough measurements to satisfy Kalan and Miranda. Then we go to the Citadel to put our results before the Confederation. Then we go home."

She turned in my arms, fingertips slipping along my flanks, one leg sliding between mine. "You don't _really_ think that will be the end of it?"

"Let's just say I _hope_ that will be the end of it." I sighed and gave her a lingering kiss. "Although I don't think that's how I will bet."

"You _know_ the Confederation won't do anything. Parliament has been in a state of chronic deadlock for years. They can barely pass an annual supply bill, much less legislate anything significant."

Vara turned her back, inviting me to scrub it. I acceded, doing my best to linger over the task and look for nerve clusters that might distract her from politics.

"I know," I told her. "Hard enough getting them to take the _valdarii_ seriously. If this astronomical phenomenon turns out to be real, _that_ will be so far outside their scope that they'll never take action. I'm not even sure yet what action to recommend."

"Maybe we could . . ."

"Vara. One day at a time." My hand slipped down over her buttocks, massaging gently, and she rewarded me with a catch in her breathing. "Just _thinking_ about getting back into politics is making me feel very weary. Right now I want to get clean, and then I would like you to take me to bed and make love to me, and then I want to sleep. I'm having a hard time recapturing the enthusiasm of my youth."

"Well." She turned to face me once more. "I think I might be able to help with that."

* * *

_**30 October 2580, Solveig System Space**_

We dropped back into normal geometry about twelve light-hours from Solveig, using Kalan's strategy of observing from a distance before moving in.

"Late K-class subgiant," Miranda announced, examining the star's spectrum. "Which is _quite_ impossible. When the turians established the Sinmara outpost in 2044 CE, this was a very typical G-class main-sequence star, just beginning to show instability."

"Half a billion years of evolution in less than five centuries," said Kalan. "Not to mention it's happening about a billion years early."

"No sign of any other stars in the immediate neighborhood," said Miranda. "No sign of any dense interstellar clouds. Nothing that could possibly explain this."

"There's _nothing _that could explain this. Not unless all our models of stellar evolution are simply _wrong_."

"There's something Miranda Lawson once told me," said my acolyte. "Science begins when someone stops and says, _that's strange."_

Kalan grinned happily at her. "Exciting, isn't it?"

Slowly, almost against her will, Miranda smiled.

"What about the planets?" I asked.

"Two planets," said Miranda. "Not quite where they should be, and I can't account for the difference. Old stars like this tend to lose some of their mass by way of a strong stellar wind, and that causes any planets to spiral outward over time. Surtur and Thrivaldi have moved out further than they should."

"Perhaps the star is losing mass faster than predicted. Nothing _else_ about it seems right."

"No." Miranda gave me a very direct stare. "If the stellar wind was strong enough to account for all the missing mass, we would be able to detect the outflow of dust and charged particles from here. What we see is a small fraction of what would be necessary."

I saw Kalan nod, silently but decisively, as if confirming a suspicion.

"ARGOS, do you detect any sign of _valdarii_ activity?"

"_No, Dr. T'Soni. Although there would be none at this distance unless they are actively transmitting."_

"Kalan, Miranda, do you have what you need?"

The quarian glanced at me. "Yes, Doctor. The star is over twice the size it should be, ten times as bright, and about fifteen hundred kelvins too cool . . . but it appears reasonably stable. A close flyby should be safe enough."

"All right. Nerylla, prepare for the FTL microjump to take us down-system. I want us running silent the instant we arrive."

My acolyte responded from her pilot's station on the bridge. _"Understood, Doctor. Ready."_

"Engage."

The engines surged, and _Normandy_ lifted into FTL for about ten seconds. Then _boom_, the shock of our return to normal geometry echoed through the hull.

"_Maneuver complete. Drift negligible. Distance to the star now just less than two light-minutes. Silent running confirmed, accelerating at ten gees."_

"Engineering, how are the heat sinks?"

"_Good to go for at least six hours, Doctor,_" answered the chief engineer, an asari named Iole. _"Depending on just how close to the star we go, of course. It could get hot out there."_

"We'll be sticking to the mission profile for now."

"_Understood."_

I looked over toward Kalan and Miranda, saw them both deeply engaged with the sensors, consulting with Tekanta and ARGOS on a constant basis. I left them alone so that science could happen.

An hour passed. Two hours. The hot yellow-orange sphere that was Solveig slowly grew in the external view. With the right filters, I could easily pick out clusters of starspots on the surface, like great dark wounds against the light. Vast prominences arched out from the limb of the star, responding to the surge and flow of magnetic fields beneath. I glanced at the heat sinks, saw them hovering well above normal, but still within safe limits.

"That's it," I heard Kalan say. "Look at the asteroseismic profile."

Miranda bent close and made a noncommittal noise.

"The oscillation modes are _exactly_ what we would expect for a subgiant of this size . . . and a mass about six percent higher than the gravitic sensors are reading."

"Then where is the missing mass?" demanded my acolyte.

"It's still in there," said Kalan excitedly. "It's just being masked off."

I frowned, turned to walk over to them . . .

"_Contacts!"_ shouted Nerylla from the bridge.

"Give me a tactical plot," I snapped.

The big galaxy map in the center of the CIC vanished, replaced by a schematic of the inner Solveig system. The star occupied the center of the space; a shallow blue curve indicated our trajectory past it. _Normandy_'s position appeared on the curve, a flashing blue icon.

Red icons blossomed on the map as well, a tightly bound group, just behind us and a little further out from the star, accelerating hard toward us. Five of them. Five warships.

The _valdarii_.


	5. Echoes of History

_**30 October 2580, Solveig System Space**_

"All hands," I said calmly, _"battle stations."_

Lights shifted, a loud chime sounded three times.

"_Evasive maneuvers under way,"_ said Nerylla from the cockpit.

"Incoming salvo," Vara reported. "Ten . . . fifteen . . . eighteen projectiles."

"GARDIAN systems online," said Miranda.

"Engineering, take us to full military acceleration," I ordered. "Take the stealth systems offline. They already know we're here, and we need the capacity."

"_Acknowledged,"_ said Iole.

_Normandy_ leaped forward at a full twenty gees. I could feel the inertial compensation setting in, like an oily sensation in the back of my mind where my biotics told me about local gravitation.

"ARGOS, hail the _valdarii_. Explain we are on a peaceful scientific expedition, ask them to call off their attack."

"_Yes, Doctor."_

Vara gave me a disbelieving stare for an instant. I shrugged.

_No harm in trying. Even if it's not likely to work._

I glanced over toward Miranda and Kalan, still hard at work at their consoles. Miranda had taken over point defense, working with ARGOS to keep us intact under fire. Kalan single-mindedly continued to gather scientific data.

"_The valdarii are accelerating to match our course,"_ said Nerylla, _"but their power-consumption curves look a bit odd. They may be struggling to keep up with us."_

"Interesting," I murmured.

"Ten projectiles down," said Vara. "Twelve. Thirteen."

_Normandy_ jinked hard to one side, trying to generate misses.

_SLAM._ Then, a few moments later: _SLAM-SLAM._ The lights flickered.

"Three hits," Miranda reported. "Kinetic barriers at seventy-eight percent."

"We're nothing but a fat target," Vara muttered.

True enough. The perennial problem with most warship design: the most powerful weapons only fired into one's forward arc. If one was busy accelerating _away_ from the enemy, there was no way to strike back. Nothing to do but flee, dodge, and pray for success from the point-defense grid.

I briefly considered turning to fire back.

"Second salvo on the way. Eighteen projectiles. Third salvo firing now."

_Probably not the best idea._

_SLAM-SLAM-SLAM-SLAM._ Four hits in rapid succession.

"Kinetic barriers at sixty percent."

I watched the tactical plot, saw us visibly starting to pull away from the enemy ships. Not quickly enough.

"Helm, alter course. Yaw ten degrees negative and maintain acceleration."

Vara frowned at the plot. I gave her a quick glare, and she had second thoughts.

Kalan had no such constraints. His head came up as he stared at the plot. "Doctor? That would take us . . ."

"Right across the star's outer corona," I said. "Yes. I'm betting the _valdarii_ will be reluctant to follow us."

"For good reason!" muttered Vara.

Minutes passed, as _Normandy_ dove toward the blinding light of the star. The _valdarii_ followed, slowly losing ground, still firing at us but with reduced effectiveness. The kinetic barriers held, barely, and then began to rise once more as the time between hits grew.

I worried more about the heat sinks. They had fallen as Iole vented plasma after our period of silent running, but now they rose again. _Normandy_ soared less than a light-minute from Solveig, already in the star's outer corona, subject to almost a thousand times as much incoming radiation as it would receive in a Thessian parking orbit.

"Now," I decided at last. "Engineering, activate EM interdiction systems."

"_Acknowledged."_

All at once, the engines shut down and we went ballistic, describing a shallow, unpowered hyperbola around the star. Then we became blind, every electromagnetic sensor cut off from the outside universe at the same moment.

"_Interdiction systems online. Status nominal,"_ reported ARGOS.

From a distance, _Normandy_ would appear as a long, pointed ovoid, much wider toward the rear, the kinetic barriers polished to perfect-mirror sheen. Solveig's reflected light would shine from our surface, like a tiny but brilliant second star.

The heat sinks began to fall once more, easing out of the danger zone.

"Status of the _valdarii?"_ I asked.

"Gravitic sensors have them," said Miranda. "They've turned away. Accelerating outward."

I nodded to myself.

_They can see we're capable of going where they can't follow. They're not willing to throw their lives away to catch us._

_They seem to be a sane and pragmatic people. Too bad we can't communicate with them._

"Interesting technology," observed Kalan.

"It's new. Mostly it's intended to hold off short-range laser weapons, like a fighter's cannon or a GARDIAN array. I'm not sure how often it's been used to keep whole stars at bay." I smiled at him. "Have you gathered the data you need?"

"I think so."

"Good. Nerylla, stay on this heading until we're sure the _valdarii_ can't catch up with us and it's safe to shift to FTL. Then set out for the Balor relay and Earth."

"_Understood, __**despoina**__."_

* * *

_**31 October 2580, Interstellar Space**_

"Dark matter," said Kalan.

All of us sat in _Normandy_'s conference room, eating a light meal from the galley while Kalan and Miranda presented their results. The quarian seemed positively _exuberant_ as he laid out his case.

"You're aware that the universe is actually made of dark matter, with a light froth of baryons – the matter we're familiar with – on top."

I nodded, remembering old lessons in cosmology.

Most technological civilizations eventually became aware that there appears to be too little matter in the universe. Weigh up all the _bright matter_ – matter composed mostly of protons and neutrons, which makes up galaxies, stars, planets, sentient beings like us – and there isn't nearly enough to account for the universe's large-scale structure and evolution. Whole galaxies and galaxy clusters would never have formed, if bright matter was the only component whose gravitation brought and held them together. There must be something else, something called _dark matter_ because it does not interact with electromagnetic energy, and so can't absorb, reflect, or give off light. Invisible to telescopes, intangible to almost any instrument one might design, dark matter must still make up a large majority of the total matter in the universe.

"Dark matter is almost like another universe overlaid on our own," said Kalan. "It's composed of particles that are completely insubstantial to us – all of us have faint wisps of dark matter passing through our bodies all the time, without knowing it. The only effect it has that we can measure is gravitational. Pools and eddies of dark matter existed in the universe from the beginning. Regions of higher density in the dark-matter sea tended to pull in bright matter as well, giving rise to the way galaxies appear today, in vast sheets and filaments throughout the universe. Every galaxy has a dark-matter halo, which helps it retain its shape."

"What does this have to do with stars dying now?" asked Vara.

"Well, just as dark matter affects bright matter through gravitation, the effect goes the other way as well. Any very large mass of bright matter will accumulate an unusual amount of dark matter as well."

"Aha," said my bondmate, suddenly understanding where Kalan was headed. "Like a star."

"Exactly. Every visible star has a pool of dark matter at its core, slowly growing larger over billions of years, adding slightly to its apparent mass. Our best models for stellar evolution account for that. The effect is normally trivial . . . the dark matter just sits in there, not interacting with the star's core any more than it ever interacts with bright matter. Normally."

"You're saying that something has _changed_ in these stars," said Miranda, her voice not as sharp as I might have expected.

_She is already half convinced._

"I think so. The dark matter in their cores has _altered state_ somehow. It's interacting with the bright matter, pulling energy out of the nuclear reactions at the star's core, shutting them down as if their hydrogen fuel had been exhausted. The result is premature evolution off the main sequence. Somehow the process is reducing the star's _mass_ as well, not much but enough to detect."

"Those planets we saw spiraling outward slightly," I mused. "Solveig _was_ losing mass, but not to a stellar wind. The dark-matter core was reducing the star's overall mass, and therefore the gravitational force it exerted on its planets."

Miranda nodded. "Kalan's model fits my observations of the planets' altered orbits perfectly."

"What's interesting is that there _is_ one form of dark matter which _does_ interact with electromagnetic energy and bright matter," said the quarian.

"Element zero," said Vara.

"Right. We call it that because it's not made of baryons at all. It contains no protons, so its _atomic number_ has to be zero. Yet it's solid, it can be worked and shaped, it reflects light, it alters local gravitation and the Higgs scalar field when you apply electromagnetism to it in certain ways. It's the only substance we know of that counts as both dark matter and bright matter at the same time. As if it exists in both universes at once."

I frowned in thought. "Well, we know that eezo forms in the cores of massive stars, because their supernova explosions scatter it out into space for us to find."

"I wonder what would happen," said Kalan, "if the dark matter in a star's core was to convert from other forms to element zero in unusually large amounts."

Miranda nodded, an expression on her face as if she experienced an epiphany. "Kalan, I would have to do some modeling . . . but that might be part of what is happening in these stars."

"Only part?" he asked mildly.

"I don't think wholesale production of element zero would be enough to account for all our observations," she said. "Just dropping a quantity of eezo into a nuclear furnace wouldn't draw any energy out of the fusion reaction. Nor would it mask off any of the star's mass the way your model predicts."

He sat quietly for a moment, his fingers drumming on the tabletop, and I knew he saw nothing but mathematics. "You may be right. There must be something else going on."

"All right," I interrupted before they could escape into abstractions. "So what is _causing_ the dark matter in these stars to act up?"

Kalan came out of his trance and grinned. "I have no idea!"

Vara growled, but I began to understand our new friend a little. He loved a mystery for its own sake. "Is there any chance the _valdarii_ are doing it?"

"No chance at all. Doctor, none of _us_ could possibly work with dark matter on such a grand scale. If this phenomenon is deliberate, it represents technology _millions_ of years beyond any of our civilizations. If the _valdarii_ were capable of such feats, they wouldn't be bothering with piracy and colonial raids. They would have conquered the galaxy long since." The quarian shrugged. "Besides, my observations show that this phenomenon has been going on for a while, five or six thousand years at least. We don't know much about the _valdarii_, but we can be sure they haven't been a starfaring culture that long. Not even you asari have been out in the galaxy that long."

Suddenly every asari in the room was staring at me. I nodded slowly.

_The only party we know of with technology that advanced, that has been active for that long, is the Reapers. Along with the Intelligence behind them. Which, thanks to my memoirs, the entire galaxy now knows has been rebuilt on the framework of my first lover's mind . . . with traces of mine in the recipe as well._

"I don't think the Reapers are behind this," I told them. "Assuming anything the Intelligence told me can be trusted, they _do_ have the capability to manipulate stars. During at least one extinction cycle, they had to _destroy_ as many as a million stars in order to defeat the organic civilizations of that time. But that was an extreme measure, never repeated since. Why would they begin destroying stars thousands of years in advance of a cycle they didn't expect to lose?"

"Who knows?" said Vara. "They had backup plans for their backup plans. Maybe they always started a batch of incipient supernovae before each cycle, just in case. It does seem to be a process that takes a few thousand years to mature."

"Then why do it so far out on the galactic rim?" I objected. "Most of the affected stars are thousands, even tens of thousands of light-years away from our civilizations. Most of the affected stars aren't massive enough to create a supernova explosion anyway."

Vara frowned for a moment, and then shrugged. "No idea."

Miranda looked thoughtful. "Anything harmful that the Reapers were up to before the war, the Ascended Intelligence would have curtailed."

"I'm afraid we don't know that for certain."

"I agree," I said calmly. "I only ever had a single interview with . . . someone who _claimed_ to represent the Intelligence, and I've never been able to prove anything he told me was the truth. The only evidence I have is that the Reapers abandoned their attack, and _appear_ to have left us alone ever since."

"If it _is_ the Reapers behind this . . ." My bondmate shivered in her seat. Four centuries later, she too had the occasional unwelcome memory of the Reaper War to keep her awake at night. "We barely survived them once. I don't think we've advanced enough to survive against them a second time."

"What about the Leviathans?" asked Kalan. "They built the Reapers, after all, even if that wasn't what they intended."

I shook my head. "One can never be too sure, but it seems unlikely. Ever since Shepard and Ann Bryson discovered their existence, they've been very quiet. Now that we know how their artifacts work, how to detect and defend against the enthrallment process, they can't manipulate us anymore. My theory is that they've become so decadent, they're happy to just wait a few million years, until all of us forget about them, and _then_ make a move."

Vara leaned on her arms on the table. "If it's not the _valdarii_, it's not the Reapers, it's not the Leviathans . . . then _who?"_

"You don't think it could be a natural phenomenon?" asked Miranda.

"Natural phenomena aren't this sneaky," said Vara. "Besides, if the _valdarii _aren't _causing_ the phenomenon, they certainly seem correlated with it. Maybe . . . maybe they're allied with someone else. Someone we don't know about."

Silence fell around our table. All of us knew that Vara didn't have a scrap of evidence for her theory. On the other hand, all of us – even Kalan, on short acquaintance – had learned to trust my bondmate's instincts. She had a knack for making good guesses on insufficient data. It was a spymaster's skill, one she had developed ever since she worked as a department head in my first information brokereage.

"We'll be at the Citadel by morning, ship's time," I reminded everyone. "Miranda, Kalan, I want the two of you to assemble all your data and write the preliminary draft for a scientific paper. We'll present your results to the Confederation, but I think we'll also want to submit to some carefully chosen peer-reviewed journals. I've used that trick before, when I couldn't get politicians to pay attention to scientific facts."

The scientists nodded. Vara smiled, remembering.

"Vara, you and I will do the same with everything we've learned about the _valdarii_, their activities, and their technology. That report will be for Confederation Intelligence and the Spectres."

"I've already put together a draft for you to review," she murmured.

"Efficient as always." I looked around the table. "Promises to keep, and miles to go before we sleep. Let's move."


	6. Citadel

_**1 November 2580, Sol System Space**_

_Normandy_ swept down out of deep space, approaching the human homeworld.

As always when I returned to that place, I stood in the observation lounge and watched Earth grow larger in the distance. Blue-white planet, city lights shining on the dark face, golden sunlight on one limb, the tarnished silver coin of its moon off in the distance.

I recalled a more dreadful aspect of the place, that last day of the Reaper War: the city lights extinguished, bane-fires burning across whole continents, the planet shrouded in dust and ash. Even during the time I served as President, fifty years and more after the end of the war, Earth still looked _wounded_. Its ecosphere took many years to recover, while the whole planet teetered on the verge of a new ice age.

The humans had shown great courage and determination, healing their world. Now the air shone clean, the ice had been driven back to the poles, the deserts had been reclaimed, sunlight gleamed on the seas and green sprawled across the land. So many species, so much living treasure, had been lost . . . but at least the humans had saved what they could. One could see jungles, forests, meadows, grassy plains, vast shoals of fish, and great coral reefs on Earth once again. Not to mention shining cities, newly rebuilt to work with nature rather than against it.

There, hanging in orbit above the revitalized planet, silver and gold in the sunlight: the Citadel.

"We'll be in dock in ten minutes," said Vara, as she stepped up to me and slipped an arm around my waist.

"Hmm." I sighed, settling my own arm around her shoulders and enjoying the animal comfort of her presence. "I'll be glad to be away from here."

"Bad memories?"

"You would think I'd be over it. I spent years on the Citadel after we established the Confederation. I accomplished so much . . . and that was just after you and I finally joined as well. Those were very good years. But when they were over, I left and never looked back, and I find I'm never happy to return."

She rested her head on my shoulder. "Some of our best years were spent here. But this is also where you had the worst day of your life. Hard not to remember that as well."

I nodded. The last day of the Reaper War, the day of our victory, the day we won our survival. Such a terrible battle, so much terror and pain, so many lost. It was also the day Shepard died. Or at least the day he left me, translated into a new form I could barely comprehend.

"I wonder if he's still out there, somewhere."

"Probably," she murmured, knowing as always who I meant. For both of us, _he_ only meant one person. "For all we know, he'll outlive the _stars_."

I shivered slightly. "That seems more likely than it once did."

* * *

_**1 November 2580, Presidium Ring/Citadel**_

I sent Vara, Miranda, and Kalan to meet with the quarian ambassador, preparing to release our scientific results and bring the Synarchy's influence to bear. Nerylla and I went to what was still called the Council Tower, at the heart of the Citadel, so I could meet with President Yao. On the way, I reviewed what I knew from his dossier.

At that time, Yao Guozhi was a little over a century old. As a young man he served in the Alliance military, a biotic specialist and commando, reaching the rank of Staff Commander. After his retirement, he worked in ecological reclamation for almost forty years before going into politics. He had risen to senior status in the Confederation Parliament before running for the Presidency. His politics seemed moderate; he had a reputation as a caretaker rather than the kind of bold leader one might hope for in a crisis. I hoped that if a crisis was upon us, he would discover the capacity within himself to meet it.

I wondered how the _fifty-third_ President of the Citadel Confederation would react to a visit from the _third_. To him, I must have seemed like a historical figure returned to life.

He kept me waiting, just long enough to force me to notice, not long enough to give offense. No doubt he hoped to impress his authority on me, just a little. I had to smile inwardly as I watched the clock, remembering the trick from my own time in office. Finally his aide ushered me into the Executive Suite.

Yao stood, even came out from behind his desk to offer a polite bow and shake my hand. I saw a short human male, slightly built but still in good physical condition, with a bland round face, sharp dark eyes, and a brisk manner. His grip felt quite firm. "Dr. T'Soni. I'm deeply honored to meet you in person at last."

"Mr. President. Thank you for making the time to meet with me."

"It is my pleasure. From what Ambassador Shal tells me, this is a very serious matter. Especially if it bears a connection to our adversaries, the _valdarii_."

He sat down behind his desk once more, and listened patiently as I delivered my view of the situation. He asked pertinent and incisive questions. He willingly accepted files containing more detailed reports, a strategic assessment from me and Vara, a scientific paper from Miranda and Kalan.

When I had finished, he rose from his desk and crossed the room, moving to stand at a window looking out across the Presidium. He stood there in silence for several minutes, a compact figure facing away from me, hands folded in the small of his back, apparently ignoring me. I waited while his thoughts made their way to a conclusion.

"I must thank you for bringing all of this to my attention," he said at last. "To you I will admit, as I would to few others in the galaxy, I am quite daunted by the prospect. The stars themselves, beginning to age and die? If this is _not_ a simple natural phenomenon, if the process should _accelerate_ and begin to work against stars in the heart of our civilization . . . what could we possibly do to survive such a force?"

"Centuries ago, many wondered the same thing about the Reapers," I said quietly.

"True." He seemed to brace his shoulders. "We will study this phenomenon, learn of its causes, and find ways to oppose it. We will not make the mistake the galaxy made in the time of the Reapers, ignoring evidence of their existence until it was almost too late. You and your quarian friend have done a great service to the Confederation today. As I might have expected, given your history."

"Thank you. If there is anything more I or my friends can do, you have only to ask."

"Be certain that I will." Still the President stood at the window, looking outward, and then he appeared to change the subject. "Dr. T'Soni, since you are here, I find I must ask you something. It regards your memoirs."

_Goddess. I had hoped to gather some attention when I published those. Perhaps not quite this much._

"A remarkable piece of work," he continued. "I very much enjoyed reading your perspectives on the war against the Reapers."

"Thank you."

"I am particularly interested in your experiences with Commander Shepard." He turned back to me, smiling slightly. "You may be aware that my military career somewhat resembled his. Although I never had the honor of fighting enemies of the same caliber."

I looked down at the floor for a moment. "With all due respect, Mr. President . . . it was an honor Shepard would willingly have foregone. As would I."

"No doubt." His smile vanished. "Dr. T'Soni, I am not certain you understood all the implications of your story in today's galaxy, before you published it."

"I gave the matter a great deal of thought," I said calmly.

"Perhaps. Yet you have been out of touch with politics here on the Citadel – and among humanity – for quite some time. I fear you have stirred up forces that might have better been left alone."

"What do you mean?"

"Are you aware of the growing religious movement among humans, called _the Way?"_

I felt my lips twist in distaste. "To some extent. They worship Shepard."

"That may be putting it too strongly," said Yao, shaking his head. He returned to sit behind his desk once more. "Until recently, they could only have been said to _revere_ Shepard, rather as Muslims revere their Prophet, or some from my home culture revere Master Kong. As I understand it, they claim that Shepard was a prophet, what they call a _manifestation_ of God. Sent into the universe to teach, and to defend sentient life against a great evil."

I snorted. "Mr. President, I lived _quite_ intimately with Shepard for almost three years. If he was some manner of divine being, he concealed the fact very well."

"One wonders whether a divine messenger might be sent without knowledge of his own nature." Yao shrugged. "Never mind. As you may imagine, your memoirs have had a profound effect on those who follow the Way."

"I did have them at least partially in mind when I wrote," I admitted. "I hoped to humanize Shepard, to demonstrate to the galaxy that he was a remarkable man . . . but no more than a man."

"I would say that _most_ of your account supported that objective very well." He leaned forward, resting his forearms on his desk and staring at me intently. "Then we come to your last few chapters. Those dealing with what occurred _after_ the firing of the Crucible, at the climax of the Battle of Earth."

I sighed in resignation. "Yes. I suspected that part of the story might surprise many people."

"You claim the reason the Reapers withdrew from the galaxy is that Shepard . . . _ascended,_ in some manner. His mind became part of the Intelligence that governs the Reapers, and once used them to impose the extinction cycle on the galaxy. Under his guidance, the Reapers abandoned the cycle forever."

"That is essentially correct."

"You have evidence for this?"

"No. Certainly the Reapers became non-hostile, almost the instant the Crucible fired. They withdrew their combat forces, and avoided doing any more harm to organic life. They repaired the mass relays. Then they appear to have withdrawn to dark space once more."

"At least until recently," said Yao. "I imagine you have heard the news: sightings of the Reapers at the galaxy's edge. Still not hostile, still ignoring any attempts to communicate."

"Yes, I've heard such rumors." I kept my voice noncommittal, not wanting to remind the President of my daughter Aspasia's position in the Navy. "There could be any number of explanations for their behavior, of course."

"Yet you claim to have gone aboard _Harbinger_ just before the Reapers departed. You had an interview with something that presented itself as Shepard."

"Hmm. Not quite." I leaned back in my chair, my eyes unfocusing for a moment as I dwelled on the memory. "It _appeared_ to be Shepard. Its mannerisms, its patterns of speech, all of them fit. Even so, it stated quite clearly that Shepard had died, that the Intelligence had only inherited his memories and personality. Enough to transform its cognitive patterns, its moral directives."

"I see." He stared at me for another moment. "In your memoirs, you were ambivalent about whether you believed what you had seen."

"Objectively, speaking as a scientist? I can't prove any of it. It could very easily have been nothing but a deception." I blinked and returned to the present once more. "Speaking from my heart? Yes, I believe it's true. Shepard's mind still exists, guiding the Reapers, watching over us from afar."

"But you do not _know_ this."

"No."

"You have not been in contact with the Intelligence, or with its Shepard-like envoy."

"Not since that one encounter, no."

"Nor have you been in contact or consultation with members of the Way movement."

"Not to my knowledge. I find their beliefs . . . quite distasteful." I stared at Yao for a long moment. "Mr. President, you seem to be placing an unusual degree of importance on this minor religious movement. My understanding of humanity is that such movements are common throughout your history."

"This movement is not so minor," he said grimly. "As much as three percent of humanity now subscribes to its precepts. In the colonies the figure is much higher. A few human colony worlds even have majority populations belonging to the Way. There are sympathizers of the movement even in the highest ranks of the Alliance. Even here on the Citadel."

"Doesn't the Systems Alliance guarantee religious freedom to its citizens?"

"In principle. A human may believe as he pleases, and may practice his faith in private as he chooses. The Alliance is much less tolerant of aggressive proselytization, or of militancy."

I nodded, remembering discussions with Shepard long ago. Shortly before their emergence onto the galactic stage, the humans had gone through a period of vicious _religious warfare_ . . . a concept that had baffled me at the time. Shepard had spoken of regulations in the Alliance military, forbidding most religious discussion among its members. Apparently the Alliance had come to impose that ethic more broadly across the human population, since taking on the role of the first unified government for all of humanity.

"You are saying that the Way violates Alliance law," I said at last.

"They seek out converts by illegal means," he agreed, "without regard to sentient rights as defined in the Alliance Charter. They are also quite militant in their opposition to certain Alliance policies. In particular, in recent years they have taken to advocating human withdrawal from the Citadel Confederation."

I frowned. As one of the founders of the Confederation, I felt no sympathy toward any who would promote the secession of one of its major partners.

Yao nodded. "I thought that might get your attention. Dr. T'Soni, we cannot afford disunity at this time. Especially given this new threat you describe. So you can understand why I am concerned that you appear to have supported these dissidents."

"It was inadvertent, I assure you." I shook my head. "Perhaps I should have omitted those chapters from my book. Although . . . they seemed appropriate at the time. I hoped to demonstrate that our salvation came because of Shepard's _human_ qualities, his compassion and strength of will. He didn't _need_ to be a divine messenger to save us, no matter what he may have later become. He only needed to be a paragon of humanity."

"I can sympathize with your intentions. Still, the results have been unfortunate. As an example, please examine this document."

The President gestured, and a hologram appeared above his desk. I called on my _daimon_ to interact with the file, and flash-read it in a few seconds.

"Oh. Oh _Goddess_."

The document had been published by members of the Way, an example of apologetics, defending the movement's beliefs against criticism. It referred to Shepard's status as part of the Ascended Intelligence. Referred to him not simply as a divine messenger, but as a _deity,_ commanding the Reapers as agents of his compassion and wrath.

_The Shepard._

"This was not at _all_ what I intended," I muttered.

"In this case, I believe you," said Yao. "Look at the publication date."

I frowned.

_April 2572._

Eight years _before_ I published my memoirs, including that final revelation as to Shepard's ultimate fate.

"For several years now, they have been teaching this concept of Shepard as a deity in command of the Reapers," said the President. "It appears to be a new element of their doctrine, this transformation of Shepard from prophet to god. So I ask again: have you had _any_ contact with members of the Way movement?"

His voice had gone hard with suspicion. I could see why.

"Mr. President, I give you my word. I have _never_ had contact with this movement so far as I know. If they had this idea even before I published my memoirs, they must have somehow developed it on their own. They did not get it from me."

"Did _you_ get it from _them?"_

I snorted. "Absolutely not."

He watched me for another minute, and then nodded slightly. "I think I believe you. Although that only implies a deeper mystery. Where _did_ they get the notion? It occurs to me that others may have learned of Shepard's fate from you. Your bondmate?"

I shook my head. "Vara has known for a long time, but she _never_ discusses my secrets with anyone. In any case, no offense intended, but she has never been much interested in humans. She has even less reason than I to work with or support the Way."

"I hesitate to ask, but have you had any other intimate partners who might have learned what you know of Shepard?"

"Yes," I told him, with a deep sigh. "Between Shepard and Vara, I did have . . . one other relationship. It didn't last, and the person in question is long dead in any case."

He lifted one eyebrow, silently asking the question. I didn't choose to enlighten him.

"You reassure me," he said at last. "It would have been difficult, to discover that one of the galaxy's foremost citizens – one of my predecessors in this very office – was in support of these dangerous radicals."

"Mr. President, is it possible that the Way has had its own contact with the Ascended Intelligence?"

He made an infinitesimal shrug. "Where such powers are concerned, I suppose that anything is _possible_. The question then becomes, _why?"_

"I have no idea."

"Neither do I." He stood behind his desk. "In any case, based on what you and your scientific team have discovered, we appear to have larger concerns to deal with. Once more, I am deeply grateful to you for bringing this matter to my attention."

"It was my pleasure to serve." I smiled at him, sensing the interview was over, rising from my own seat. "If I may offer a piece of advice, from someone who has also sat in that chair . . . a foreign enemy is likely to be the greater threat, if only because it is less understood."

"Perhaps. Of course, the Way represents an _idea_. Like every other religious or ideological movement that has swept across humanity in the past, leaving nothing but wreckage in its wake. Like Cerberus, in its day. Ideas can be more dangerous than any merely physical enemy."

I shook the President's hand, trying not to frown at the gleam I saw in his eyes as he made his final statement.

A gleam that looked uncomfortably like fanaticism.

* * *

Nerylla and I boarded a lift back down to the Presidium ring. As usual, my acolyte's instincts were good, prompting her to leave me alone with my thoughts for the duration of the descent.

It was good that the Confederation would take action on the _valdarii_ threat. Yet I felt deep frustration with all I had learned from President Yao about the Way.

_They claim to revere Shepard, but they know nothing of what he stood for, and they don't appear to have learned anything from his life. He would have despised them._

_Goddess. How did they learn about Shepard's fate before I published?_

I shook my head.

_Never mind. This is a human problem; it has nothing to do with me. Let the Confederation and the Alliance deal with it. So long as it doesn't distract anyone from the real threat . . ._

An abrupt jolt. Still two-thirds of the Council Tower's height from its base, the lift car suddenly decelerated to a stop. I staggered and would have fallen, had Nerylla not been there to brace me.

"What's happening?" I wondered.

_{Daimon. Contact Citadel Security.}_

_{I am sorry, Dr. T'Soni. All bandwidth to the Citadel networks has been cut off. I cannot communicate.}_

I exchanged a shocked glance with Nerylla, who must have consulted with her own _daimon_ and gotten the same results. She opened her omni-tool, scanning the back of the car where the drive machinery resided.

I got almost no warning, only Nerylla's sharp gasp. Then my acolyte went into smooth, rapid motion.

She called up her biotic corona in one hand, directing a burst of energy at the outside wall of the car, the transparent crystal that gave us a magnificent view of the Presidium and the ward arms far below.

The crystal shattered.

Nerylla's other hand seized my shoulder. With a great cry, she _hurled_ me out through the sudden opening, the recoil staggering her for an instant.

I flew out into open space, over a kilometer above the Presidium ring, and began to fall.

I managed to turn halfway around in mid-air, looking back toward the lift car I had just abandoned.

Just in time to see an explosive gout of flames devour the entire car, incinerating my acolyte in the process.


	7. Pursuit

_**1 November 2580, Presidium Ring/Citadel**_

I soared out into empty air, trying to clear my mind of that last instant, in which my gaze had caught Nerylla's. Just before the explosion meant to kill both of us devoured her.

The Council Tower was already beginning to slide past me with considerable speed. Even the light centrifugal force in effect at my height felt like about half a gee. By my reckoning, I had less than forty-five seconds before becoming a purple spot somewhere in the Wards.

I turned in mid-air again, this time facing downward, my arms and legs spread wide. I could see I was already too far out from the Tower to maneuver back into its local artificial gravity field. I would have to make a soft landing. Somehow.

My corona snapped into existence, wrapping me in a caul of blue-white fire.

It helped, a little. I could feel my effective mass decrease, until I fell like a great bag of feathers rather than sixty kilos of meat and bone.

Unfortunately I continued to fall. After all, it was _not_ gravity, acting on my mass, that was the problem. It was the ponderous rotation of the Citadel, imparting centrifugal force to me, and that would continue no matter how little mass I had.

I glanced around me, the wind of my passage starting to pull tears from my eyes. I couldn't get back to the Tower. Could I at least bend my trajectory toward the Presidium ring, rather than the ward arms?

_Maybe_.

It was one of the more difficult biotic feats I ever attempted, bending space _just so_ in my vicinity, applying a false-gravity vector to my fall. My trajectory curved slightly, then some more.

The buildings on the far edge of the Presidium ring seemed to grow in size. Much too quickly.

_Come on. Come on . . ._

Half-blinded, I pushed my corona to the limit, pain in the back of my skull warning me not to go too far. I ignored the pain.

Blazing like a star, a shrill scream trailing behind me like a comet's tail, I plunged through the Presidium's false sky.

I glanced down.

_Thank the Goddess._

In the last few seconds, I turned again in mid-air, missing one of the cross-walks at the top of the Presidium by about four meters. I locked my feet together, my arms above my head.

I came in at a steep angle, feet-first, almost into the center of one of the Presidium's reservoir-lakes. I felt a great _slap_ against my biotic barrier, then against my feet, finally against my whole body. No doubt I sent up an enormous fan of water as I plunged into the depths.

For an instant, I simply rejoiced that I was alive and seemed to have taken no serious injury.

Then I started fighting for my life. Deep in the water, not sure which way was _up_, I realized the formal outfit I had worn to visit President Yao was _not at all_ suited for diving.

Fortunately it was easy to wriggle my way out of it. Stripped down to my briefs, I kicked off for the surface.

I broke the surface a few moments later, gasping for air, shaking water out of my eyes so I could orient myself. I saw some landmark nearby, on the very edge of the water, and headed for it with smooth strokes. Soon I scrambled out of the water onto solid ground, a blue-skinned Venus rising out of the foam, ignoring the wide-eyed stares of a dozen Presidium pedestrians.

I looked again at the landmark which had caught my eye.

_Oh Goddess. Wouldn't you just know it?_

I stood at the base of Shepard's heroic statue: Savoir of the Citadel, Conqueror of the Collectors, Reconciler of the Krogan, half a dozen other titles of legend.

I had always hated that statue. Far too idealized.

"_There she is!"_

_What?_

Black-armored figures, running my way, brandishing weapons. The Citadel's citizens shouted in alarm and scrambled to get out of the way.

Whoever they were, they weren't C-Sec.

"_Death to the blasphemer!"_

It might have been a long time since I was last in danger of my life, but I soon found there was nothing wrong with my reflexes.

_Tactical assessment: at least six humans in armor with assault rifles. Me, alone, mostly naked, dripping, no kinetic barriers available, not even carrying my sidearm. Best course of action . . ._

I turned and ran like a thief, looking for cover, some way to break line-of-sight.

Gunfire pursued me.

_{Daimon. Call Vara. Call C-Sec. Call __**anybody**__.}_

_{I am sorry, Dr. T'Soni. I still cannot establish a handshake with any external networks.}_

I skidded to a halt, turned sharply, sprinted up a staircase onto a raised concourse. Behind me, more pedestrians turned to stare, only to be knocked aside by my armed pursuers.

At least I seemed to be gaining on them. I had kept myself in peak physical condition ever since the Reaper War. I also wasn't wearing anything that might slow me down.

_{How can you still be cut off? We're in the middle of the Presidium. There must be a hundred access points within range.}_

_{I have no explanation. I have run a top-level diagnostic. My systems appear to be in good order.}_

I dove over a low wall, crouched in its cover for a moment as I looked behind me, ignoring the startled cries of a restaurant's customers all around.

Black-armored figures, still in pursuit.

"_Death to the whore of Satan!"_

I dropped a _singularity_ in their path, enjoyed a moment's satisfaction as the two leading pursuers got caught up in its vortex. A quick check to make sure no civilians were too close, and then a quick warp into the heart of the singularity . . .

_BOOM._

_There. Two of them down, and the rest may be more cautious now._

_{Well, keep trying.}_

_{Yes, Doctor.}_

Staying low, I moved between tables, vaulted another low wall at the opposite end of the restaurant's frontage, and jogged down a side street. Covered by buildings on either side, I began to feel a little safer.

For a moment. Then I heard shouts behind me, more armored men in pursuit. I glanced over my shoulder, saw one of them hoist a heavy weapon to his shoulder.

_Oh Goddess!_

I dove for cover, crouching behind a massive steel-and-concrete planter, just as a rocket soared close and exploded. Fortunately it fell short, and my cover saved me from any more than a moment's stunned shock.

Half-blinded, I emerged just enough to throw a fusillade of biotic warps back the way I had come. It must have worked. When I looked again, my foes had all taken cover. I ran once more.

_Where is C-Sec?_

Even if I couldn't _call_ Citadel Security, they _had_ to be aware of a problem on the Presidium. Hundreds of people had seen a former President of the Confederation emerge from the lake, and then flee at a dead run, pursued by armed attackers. _Someone_ should have made a report.

_{Dr. T'Soni?}_

A call from someone I didn't recognize, coming over my _daimon_-implant.

_{Yes!}_

_{Thank God. Kamala Sarabhai, Special Tactics and Reconaissance. What's your situation?}_

_A Spectre?_

Suddenly my _daimon_ sent me a data-flash: Spectre identity and authentication codes. I multi-tasked for a moment, examining the data, even as I ducked down a new street and sprinted through a scattered crowd, trying to break the pursuit once more.

The authentication codes checked out. In my mind's eye I saw a dark brown face, dark eyes, black hair, delicate features, a wide white grin, average height but very athletic, quite attractive. A gestalt of her military career: Alliance Marines, trained in commando work and combat engineering, decorated several times for valor, recruited into the Spectre corps about four years previous.

Sarabhai certainly _looked_ legitimate. She reminded me of someone I had known quite well, long ago.

_{My situation could be better. Someone just tried to assassinate me on the Council Tower, and now I'm being chased by well-armed humans shouting religious slogans.}_

A short pause, then: _{I was afraid of that. Doctor, you need to stop transmitting. Whoever these people are, they've infiltrated the Citadel networks. They're tracing you by your message traffic.}_

I felt a moment of doubt, but the Spectre's advice seemed sensible enough. I wasn't getting through to anyone else in any case.

_{Daimon, go silent.}_

_{Yes, Doctor.}_

_{Good,}_ said Sarabhai. _{Now, where are you? I can be there in a few moments.}_

The doubt rose higher. After all, Spectre or no, I didn't really _know_ anything about her.

_{I have a better idea. If you can reach my __**daimon**__, you can put me in contact with my people, and __**they**__ can come rescue me. You'll forgive me if I'm not my usual trusting self today.}_

A hint of rueful laughter over the link.

_{Doctor, you have a reputation for a lot of things, but naïve trust isn't one of them. Unfortunately I don't think that would do us much good. Someone – possibly the same people – just tried to kill Vara T'Rathis outside the Synarchy Embassy.}_

I felt a moment's terrible panic. _Vara?_

_{Don't worry, I think she's okay. She and your other people got back inside the Embassy, and Ambassador Shal has locked the place down. I can get you there, or back to your ship, but not if these lunatics get to you first!}_

"_There she is!"_

Armored figures, this time _ahead_ of me. They had caught me in a pincer movement.

I changed directions, ran in the front entrance of an emporium, ignored the querulous objections of its hanar proprietor. A burst of biotic force violently opened a low-security door. I moved through the stock-room in the back.

More shouts behind me, and renewed gunfire. I reached a decision.

_{I'm on Sarnath Plaza, third tier, in the Enkindled Ones Offer Superlative Technical Wisdom_ _emporium. Moving toward the back.}_

_{Got it. Hole up. I'll be there in two minutes.}_

Sound tactical advice. I ducked down between two rows of shelves, crouching in shadows, and waited.

_Bang_. The door opened again, violently enough to fall out of its track. Bulky figures entered the stock-room.

"_She's got to be in here somewhere. Search the place."_

I moved further back into the corner, doing my best to imitate a shadow. Bare feet helped.

_Interesting. They sound very pragmatic and not at all zealous, now that they're no longer in public._

Unfortunately, they were quartering the space very efficiently. The area in which I could stay out of sight had begun to dwindle rapidly. I glanced around, wondering if it was time to call up my corona again and go out in a blaze of glory.

_{Doctor? You may want to keep your head down.}_

_{Why . . .}_

_SLAM!_

The back wall of the building blew inward in a cloud of dust and rubble.

Gunfire again, this time from the direction of the explosion. I peeked out of my cover and saw another black-armored figure, this time shorter and clearly female, laying down a _storm_ of weapons fire across the shattered stock-room. She gestured with her left hand, and an overload charge flew across the room to break one of my pursuers' kinetic barriers.

I could recognize an opportunity when I saw one. I emerged from cover, my biotic corona surged, and I began flinging warps and telekinetic throws at the foe. Flanked, the enemy went down in short order.

My rescuer removed her helmet once all had gone quiet. I immediately recognized her from her credentials, nothing changed except her hair, braided and coiled around her head to keep it out of her way.

"Dr. T'Soni, I presume." Goddess, she even had the musical _accent_ I remembered from long ago, what some humans called Received Pronunciation. One eyebrow lifted in irony. "Do you _always_ get into combat situations in the buff?"

"Only when they begin with me falling off the Council Tower into a lake. My formal gown didn't exactly permit freedom of movement."

"I can imagine. Well, Doctor, I'm glad I got here in time. We had best be on our way."

"Just a moment."

I paced over to one of the fallen enemy, crouched down to search him quickly. No insignia, no ID . . . but he did have an omni-tool. I pulled it away from his wrist. Then I flipped his helmet visor up, looked down at a pale human-male face, brown eyes and a few days' growth of stubble. He didn't _look_ like a religious fanatic. Of course, as an asari I had almost no experience with religious fanaticism to which I could refer.

"Doctor? I would _really_ like to get you somewhere safe before more of them show up."

I glanced at her, not bothering to conceal my suspicions. "You're quite sure there are more of them?"

"I'm quite sure I don't want to take the risk."

"All right." I rose and walked across to her, ignoring the look on her face in response to my near-nudity. "Do you have some transportation?"

"This way," she said, and led me out what had once been the back wall of the emporium.

Hovering just above a small courtyard, I saw a _ship: _tiny, not even the size of a corvette, probably barely large enough for two people, but certainly more than a simple skycar or shuttle. I saw the Spectre logo on the hull, right by the open hatch.

I stepped aboard, Sarabhai right behind me, and heard the hatch close. I didn't hear her give any commands, but she must have interacted with the ship through a VI implant. The ship began to rise, clearing the buildings on all sides, beginning to turn.

"Let's go to the Synarchy Embassy," I suggested. "I want to see whether Vara and the others are safe."

The Spectre made a noncommittal noise, busy putting her weapons and gear away in a locker by the hatch.

"Do you know who those people were?" I asked, staring out the front port at the view of the Presidium, looking for more signs of my attackers. "Maybe they were with the Way."

"They weren't with the Way," said Sarabhai.

"How do you know?"

A sudden stinging sensation, in the juncture between my neck and shoulder. I whirled, to see the human stepping calmly back, watching me, an injector still in her hand.

"Because I am," she said calmly.

I tried to object, clench my fist, or call up my biotics. None of it worked.

My knees buckled. I pitched forward into the Spectre's arms.

_Darkness._


	8. Mindoir

_**3 November 2580, Springfield Settlement, New Bretagne/Mindoir**_

When I awoke, I felt disoriented for several moments.

I lay in a comfortable bed, a light coverlet spread over me. I felt fine for the most part, except for an odd sensation of _silence_ in the back of my mind. The air smelled fresh and clean, with a hint of pollen and cut grass. I could hear a soft breeze and the quiet hum of insects nearby.

I opened my eyes.

The room around me was small, cozy and human, full of sturdy furnishings made of richly patterned cloth and dark wood. Restful cream, pale blue, and forest green colors met my eye. Golden sunlight streamed in through an open window by my bedside, which also admitted the pleasant outside air.

I propped myself up on one elbow. I found myself nude under the covers, but I could see clothes neatly folded on a nearby chair: undergarments, trousers, jacket, boots, even a minimal headdress that fit my status in asari society, all in white and cobalt blue. They looked a little like an outfit I had worn long ago, in the years just before the Reaper War. Somehow I knew that they would fit me well. On a dresser next to the chair, I saw a pitcher of ice water, condensation beading on the glass, and two tumblers.

_Someone has gone to great lengths to see to my comfort._

_{Daimon?}_

Still nothing but silence. My VI implant was off-line.

_Someone has also gone to great lengths to ensure I can't communicate._

_Where am I?_

_Furnishing styles and color choices typical of humans, much of it hand-crafted. Emphasis on wood, cloth, and glass, not high-technology materials. No sign of advanced communications or computer equipment. Somewhere in Alliance space, probably a colony world._

I rose from the bed and began to dress.

_Moderate gravity. About nine-tenths standard. Definitely not Earth. It feels familiar._

I glanced out the window as I shrugged into the jacket.

_Green vegetation, much of it of Earth origin: grass, trees, flowering plants. Sky perhaps a bit deeper blue than one would see on Earth. Air pressure well within the comfort zone for humans or asari, plenty of oxygen in the mix, no obvious pollutants. Moderate temperature and humidity. No scent of sea air._

I put on the headdress with practiced ease, framing my face with twin strips of white cloth.

_Not many other buildings in the area. Small two-story houses set some distance apart along a grassy lane, storage buildings, no commercial or industrial facilities within sight._

_Goddess. I think I know this place._

A knock at the door. I turned as it opened.

A male human entered the room, cautiously at first, and then more confidently once he saw I was awake and dressed. I had never seen him before. Tall, lanky, his hair and beard dark but going silver, pale skin and grey eyes, simple clothes in subdued colors, about a century old. His peaceful expression and gentle smile put me at ease, despite my suspicions.

"I thought I heard you moving around," he said, his voice a mild baritone. "It's good to meet you properly at last, Doctor. My name is Clarke. Elias Clarke. Welcome to Springfield."

"This is Mindoir, isn't it?" I asked calmly.

He nodded. "That's right. Impressive, that you recognize our world without even going outside."

"I've been here before." I sighed. "Once, a few years after the Reaper War, at the invitation of the colonial government."

"I've seen vids of the occasion," said Clarke. "The dedication of the Shepard Memorial, in New Paris. That must have been painful for you."

"Somewhat." I stared at him. "Forgive my rudeness, but _how did I get here?"_

"Kamala brought you."

"Kamala Sarabhai. The Spectre."

"That's right. It's been about two days since you left the Citadel. You've been kept under sedation for most of that time."

"I've been _kidnapped_, in other words."

"If you like," he said, that gentle smile spreading across his face once more. "Kamala is rather direct in her methods, but she means well. Doctor, I can assure you, no one here means you the slightest harm."

I gave him my best aristocratic glare. "Then I assume I'm free to go."

He had the good grace to look embarrassed. "Well. Aside from that."

I clenched my fist. "I think you had better reconsider that position . . ."

Then I had to stop, because something rather important had failed to happen.

I stared down at my fist. The one _not_ currently haloed in blue-white light.

"Ah, about that," said Clarke, almost apologetically. "For the moment, we've had to disable your biotic capabilities. Omega-five enkephalin. Harmless in the long run, and your biotics will return as soon as the drug is no longer in your system, but for now we can't afford the risk."

"The risk that I'll shatter your skull with a gesture?" I suggested.

"More than that. Until we can be sure what you are, your very presence here is a terrible threat."

"You don't know _what I am?"_

He lifted one hand to stroke his beard, watching me calmly. "In one sense we do. You are Dr. Liara T'Soni. Scientist, entrepreneur, spymaster, revolutionary, diplomat, politician, once the President of the Citadel Confederation, now retired but still very influential in asari space and beyond. We call you _the Widow."_

_The Widow_, I repeated silently, not liking the implications.

"You're with the Way," I accused him. "I'm important to you . . . because I was Shepard's wife."

"Yes," he said quietly. "You've always held great honor among us, both for your role in the Shepard's embodied life, and for the great things you've accomplished on your own."

"Such _honor,"_ I said, not bothering to conceal the contempt in my voice. "You drug me, abduct me, cut me off from my friends and allies, rob me of abilities that are central to my very life as an asari. Rarely have I ever felt so _honored."_

He sighed. "I understand. You have my profoundest apologies, but all of this is _necessary._ You don't know everything that's at stake."

I turned my back on him in disgust. We stood in silence for a long moment.

"Doctor, I'm sure you're hungry," he said at last. "I understand you're comfortable with most human foods, with the significant exception of _coffee_. My wife and I would be happy to whip up a good old-fashioned country breakfast for you. We can talk about this."

I glanced aside to give him my profile, not quite turning to look at him directly.

"Please," he appealed. "Give us a chance to explain what's going on."

He sounded so damnably _reasonable_. I couldn't maintain my rage.

"Suppose I agree to listen," I said after a moment. "If I _don't_ agree to fall in line with whatever you're proposing, what happens then?"

I heard him take a deep breath. "Then we would find a way to let you go. It might take a few days, but we have no interest in keeping you here against your will for long."

I turned and gave him a sharp glare. "I'm not sure I believe you. I am not happy with this ramshackle _religion_ you've built up around the _very mortal man_ I loved."

To my surprise, he smiled at me once more. "Doctor, knowing what we know about you, that does not surprise me in the least. I give you my word: we have no more interest in converting you to our way of thinking than we do in offering you any physical harm. All we want is your understanding. Perhaps, if we're very fortunate, an alliance."

"No promises," I told him, "but I take my pancakes with butter and maple syrup."

"I think we can manage that."

* * *

Breakfast _was_ very good.

Jeanne Clarke turned out to be a petite woman, with silver-blonde hair, a round face, and merry blue eyes. She welcomed me to her kitchen with sincere generosity, inviting me to sit at her table while she and her husband prepared the morning meal. The two of them used low-technology but very effective methods. As something of a cook myself, I could appreciate their technique. Not to mention that they happily fed me until I could barely move.

They seemed determined to treat me as a welcome guest, not as a kidnap victim or a prisoner. I wondered what they would do if I simply walked out their front door and set out down the street outside.

_Probably smile pleasantly and produce a stun gun_._ Or call on their pet Spectre to stop me. Without my biotics I'm fighting at a severe disadvantage._

So I stayed in my seat, ate that very fine meal, talked politely with the Clarkes, and remained watchful.

Elias and Jeanne told me about the Way.

"It all started with the Bahá'i faith," said Elias.

I shook my head. "I'm afraid I've never heard of it."

"No reason you should," he admitted. "They never held much influence on Earth. They began a little over seven hundred years ago, an offshoot of Shia Islam at first, although they quickly started borrowing ideas from other major human religions as well. They recognized major figures from other faiths as a series of prophets, as manifestations of God."

"I've heard that phrase before," I told them. "You regard Shepard as a _manifestation of God."_

"That's right." Jeanne peered at me over her coffee cup. "You may have heard that we _worship_ Shepard. That's not true. Like the Bahá'is before us, we're strict monotheists. To us there is only one God, creator of the universe, benevolent and compassionate, who remains concerned for the welfare of all creatures. Only the one God is worthy of worship. On the other hand, we believe that God sometimes chooses to _manifest_ in the universe, to provide guidance, or to take a hand in events for our benefit. So we recognize the presence in history of such Manifestations, beings with specific missions. Angelic messengers, inspired prophets, and so on."

"The Bahá'is didn't always have a happy time of it on Earth," said Elias. "From the beginning, most Muslim societies regarded them as apostates, and persecuted them. As with many minority faiths, they suffered persecution almost everywhere during the period of religious conflict, in the twenty-first and early twenty-second centuries. One of the few countries that continued to protect their rights was India, so over time a large Bahá'i community took root there. Then when humanity began to settle the galaxy, many Bahá'is, both Indians and others, moved to the colonies. Including to Mindoir."

"Were they here when the batarians raided?" I asked.

"Yes." Elias shook his head and looked grim. "Those early settlers suffered terribly, as you may imagine. More Bahá'is came afterward, to help with the rebuilding. Even before the Reaper War, there was probably a higher proportion of Bahá'is here than anywhere else in Alliance space. Then Mindoir was very fortunate during the war. The Collectors never came here, Cerberus never occupied the planet, and the Reapers only arrived a few days before the end of the war. They didn't have time to do nearly as much damage as they did elsewhere."

Jeanne rested her arms on the table, leaning on them comfortably. "So after the war, Mindoir was relatively intact. As the Alliance rebuilt, we were able to lend some aid to other colonies that had been more badly hurt. Our ancestors took a lot of pride in that . . . and in the part our most famous citizen played in saving the galaxy."

I nodded. "I can see it now. At some point, some of the local Bahá'is must have decided that Shepard was another one of these _manifestations."_

"That's about the size of it," said Elias. "Our ancestors didn't have your memoirs at the time, of course, but they had plenty of other sources for Shepard's life. The Alliance had released an official biography. Admiral Williams published a memoir before she died in the Salarian War. Primarch Vakarian gave many interviews, in which he spoke about his impressions of Shepard. Late in her life, Miranda Lawson published an historical retrospective. Even you dropped a few hints over the years, despite your reticence to speak of him.

"By about fifty years after the war, the idea had become fairly widespread among the Bahá'is of Mindoir, that Shepard had been the latest prophet. The Way grew from that, although I suppose we're not really orthodox Bahá'is anymore. The original faith still exists, but they continue to regard Bahá'u'lláh as the most recent Manifestation, and they don't expect another one for several more centuries. We of the Way have placed our spiritual bets on Shepard, as it were."

"It seems strange," I mused, "that a man who didn't explicitly teach and never wrote anything of his own would be considered a prophet."

"Several of the Manifestations have taught by example, or by word of mouth," said Jeanne. "Then other people have had to record and compile their teachings for later generations to read."

"That seems like an opportunity for those scribes to distort the record and impose their own beliefs."

"No doubt that happens," she agreed, watching me with a sympathetic gleam in her eye. "Rather like the Athame Doctrine among your people, if I'm not mistaken."

"If you've read my memoirs, you know how the truth of _that_ turned out."

Elias smiled gently. "Doctor, I would be hard-pressed to find any member of the Way who has _not_ read your memoirs."

"I never intended to provide you with a _sacred text,"_ I growled.

"It's only been a few months," he assured me. "I doubt anyone takes your book as sacred yet. I can attest that it _was_ very inspiring. To read such an _intimate_ account of Shepard's life, and yet one that still demonstrates how remarkable a man he was . . ."

"He was only a man," I stated flatly. "Nothing more."

"Why couldn't he have been both?" Jeanne asked. "A mortal, fallible man _and_ a manifestation of God?"

I stared at her in disbelief, not sure where to begin.

"There's an old story I think is relevant," she said. "A man is at home when he hears on the news that an enormous rain-storm is coming. This man is very devout, so of course he turns to God right away. He prays: _please, God, send me a miracle_.

"His neighbors are about to flee in their cargo van and they have room, so they offer to take him in, but no, he's waiting for God. The rain comes, and the river next to his house breaks its banks and begins to flood his land. He prays again: _please, God, send me a miracle, save me from this terrible storm._

"Then he sees a woman out on the water in a boat, making her way to safety. The woman offers to bring him on board, but he says no, he's still waiting for God to intervene. The flood waters rise and he has to climb up onto his roof to escape. He prays yet again: _please, God, I'm desperate, send me a miracle or I'm going to die._

"The local government sends an aircar out to search for refugees. The crew spots him there, clinging to the highest spot on the roof of his house. They offer to rescue him, but he still says no, he's waiting for God to save him. The waters rise some more, the man can't hang on any longer, and he drowns. Since he's a devout and good man, he goes to Heaven and gets to meet God face to face. At this point he's a little annoyed. _I prayed for help over and over, God. Why didn't you save me?"_

I saw it then, and couldn't help but smile.

"So God looks at him and says: _I sent you a van, a boat, and an aircar. What more did you want?"_

I chuckled and nodded. "I get it. You're arguing that the divine works through what look like ordinary people and events."

"Sometimes," agreed Elias. "We believe that miracles happen, of course . . . but more often than not, the universe becomes a better place because ordinary people have been inspired to work hard, keep faith, hope for the best, and _make_ things turn out they way they should. We don't have time to wait for some big, splashy divine intervention to solve all our problems. That's not how God normally operates anyway. It teaches us what needs to be done, and then it expects us to roll up our sleeves and get to work."

Despite myself, I felt a sting behind my eyes, a tear that didn't _quite_ emerge to roll down my face. "That sounds very much like something Shepard would have said."

"Thank you," he said sincerely.

* * *

The day passed much more pleasantly than I might have expected. I spent hours with Elias and Jeanne, going with them to tour the small town where they lived, the farmland they and their robots maintained. I met other members of their community, members of the Way, who treated me with quiet respect but no great awe. I saw no evidence of extremism or fanaticism, and I must admit I came away with a much more favorable impression of their religion than I had before.

I didn't forget the fundamental facts, of course. Almost everyone I met carried at least a light sidearm, which meant they were better armed than I. Very calmly and gently, very _firmly_, the Clarkes and their neighbors kept me well away from any technology I might have used to contact the extranet or call for help. They took pains to point out Springfield's isolation, its location in a wide valley over a hundred kilometers from the nearest other settlement. I remained a prisoner.

I dissembled, calm and polite, appearing to have no interest in escape.

Eventually, the local night came and I retired to my room in the Clarke residence. I undressed, slipped under the covers, tossed and turned convincingly for a few minutes, and then came to rest with my left hand under my cheek and my right concealed against my body. My eyes closed. I began to breathe deeply and evenly.

Under the blanket, I tapped my right thumb against my index finger. Thumb against ring finger. Thumb against index finger again.

Four fingers. I could select two bits at a time, transmitting them through the backup connection wired through my right hand, my arm, my shoulder, the top of my spine, my brain. One tap for two bits. Four taps for a single character. Dozens of taps for a short message.

A message like the clandestine reactivation code for my _daimon_.

When I felt a short but very distinctive _itch_ against the back of my neck, I knew the implant still worked, even if the Way had deactivated its primary input-output channels.

Slowly, painstakingly, I began to apply the tools I had to the problem of my captivity.


	9. Secret War

_**4 November 2580, Springfield Settlement, New Bretagne/Mindoir**_

I was left in Jeanne's care for most of the next day. Elias had to travel to New Paris, to attend an emergency session of something called the _Spiritual Assembly of Mindoir_.

Curious, I asked Jeanne about the Way's organization, and came away suitably impressed. A Spiritual Assembly was a board of at least nine members, elected by vote from among ordinary members of the Way, which provided governance for a single community, a region, or possibly an entire world. Elias served on the Spiritual Assembly for the entire planet. Since the Way had begun on Mindoir, that planetary Assembly was the most senior in the galaxy. I apparently had the honor of being the (not entirely willing) guest of one of the Way's most influential leaders.

_Not entirely surprising. My presence here seems to be a matter of very high policy._

I spent most of that morning and early afternoon being the perfect house-guest, making every outward sign of friendly cooperation. I asked Jeanne polite questions about Mindoir and the Way, told her stories of my own, ate a hearty meal that she prepared, and went for a walk outdoors with her. I made no attempt to use my biotics or connect to the extranet through my _daimon_.

All the while, I watched my jailor.

Soon after the mid-day meal, a call came in on the household comm console in the living room. I had already noticed that the Clarkes, like most members of the Way, didn't use VI implants. Jeanne would have to physically go and answer the call. She glanced at me, apparently decided I posed no threat, and rose from the table.

Leaving me alone in the kitchen.

I didn't get up from my place at the table. Instead I leaned back in my chair, reviewing the house's layout in my mind.

_About three meters to the most likely location of the computer core. Probably . . . right behind that wall. Close enough._

My right hand moved slightly, as if fidgeting with nervous energy. Thumb to third finger, little finger, ring finger, little finger again.

_Go._

Nothing seemed to happen. I considered that a _good_ sign, since it meant no alarms had gone off and Jeanne Clarke wasn't about to return to the kitchen with a weapon in hand. At worst, my half-crippled _daimon_ would fail to reach the household computer and safely hack open a clandestine channel, and I would have to rethink.

Five seconds. Ten.

Then I felt a momentary itch on the back of my right hand. I very carefully did _not_ make the rather vindictive smile I had in mind. When Jeanne returned to the room, she found me sitting calmly at my place, sipping a cup of hot chocolate.

_Step one: complete._

* * *

I sat at ease on the Clarkes' front porch, enjoying the cool of the early evening, just as the Mindoir night-callers began to set up their plaintive chorus of hooting cries in the forest nearby. Then I saw Elias return home, walking up the long path from the aircar landing pad. With him arrived another guest.

Kamala Sarabhai.

She looked very different in civilian clothes, tough denim trousers and a brief top, carrying no more than a sidearm at her hip to discourage the local wildlife. Her hair fell unbound, cascading in glossy black waves down her back, and her stride seemed bold and carefree. She gave me a challenging stare as she approached.

"If you've been to the Citadel, then you owe me some news," I told her.

"Fair enough. Your bondmate and your other friends are safe, Doctor. Ambassador Shal very loudly put them under the Synarchy's protection, and _insisted_ they be permitted to return to _Normandy_ at once. No excuses from the Confederation, nothing about an _investigation_ or any such nonsense, just_ they get to leave now or there's an interstellar incident._ And when _Normandy_ did leave, it had an escort of geth ships all the way to the mass relay."

My eyes went wide. "Goddess. It sounds as if the ambassador started an incident anyway."

"He had good reason, given that President Yao was behind the attempt to kill you and Vara T'Rathis in the first place." She snorted in derision. "Bastard didn't want to agree, but he couldn't very well object once Shal made such a stink. Not without tipping his hand to half the galaxy."

Successive shocks have a smaller and smaller effect over time. I barely blinked at that one. Then something went _click_ in the back of my mind, suspicions I hadn't even been aware of until Kamala brought them out into the open. I found myself nodding slowly.

"He asked me who _knew_ about Shepard's ultimate fate," I said. "Since I hadn't mentioned it to anyone until I published my memoirs, he wondered whom I might have shared the knowledge with during an asari joining. I mentioned Vara as the only one still alive. Then within the hour she and I both came under attack."

Kamala gave me a sharp glance, inferring what I hadn't said openly, but not asking the question.

"But that's just a suspicion," I concluded. "How do you _know_ President Yao was behind the attack?"

"Because I saw the mission orders," said the Spectre.

"President Yao was foolish enough to order such a thing openly?"

"There wasn't anything open about it. It had the highest level of classification." She shrugged ruefully. "Until three days ago, nobody on the Citadel knew I had anything to do with the Way. As a Spectre I had access, enough to keep an eye on things, get advance warning of what the Citadel might be planning. So when Yao set up a hit against you and your bondmate . . . it seemed like the right moment to risk my cover. I sabotaged the team sent after T'Rathis, and stepped in to save you. Unfortunately I wasn't quite careful enough. Yao knows what I did, and I've been disavowed. I imagine another Spectre or three will be sent after me before long."

I watched her for a long moment. "I owe you my thanks, then, for putting so much at risk to save both Vara and me."

She grinned. "Enough to overlook the small matter of kidnapping?"

"Not quite," I said, giving her an unforgiving glare. "What I have to wonder is why he regarded that information as so important. Aside from its value to you of the Way, of course."

"We don't know," said Elias. "President Yao is fiercely opposed to us, but we don't understand his motives as well as we would like."

"I suppose this means he isn't going to take any action against the _valdarii_, or against the death of the stars."

Suddenly I found three humans _staring_ at me in silent astonishment, while the night-callers hooted off in the distance.

"Aha," I remarked. "It seems I have some information you don't."

"It . . . would seem so," said Elias, still looking rather shell-shocked. "Doctor, let's go inside and sit down. This may be a long conversation."

"I agree," I said. "I'll make you a bargain, as among honorable enemies. You've told me all about the Way from the inside, as it were, but I haven't heard very much about its political situation. If you want me to bring any influence to bear, I need to understand the issues. In exchange, I'll tell you about some rather startling scientific results my friends and I have discovered."

"That's fair," said Elias. "Come on."

We adjourned indoors, most of us finding seats around the wide wooden table in the kitchen. Jeanne moved to provide refreshments, coffee for the other humans, a glass of wine for me.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw her work for a moment at the kitchen's synthesizer, producing a small vial of some substance which she then transferred to my wine-glass. A moment later, when the glass came to my hand, I caught Kamala watching me intently for an instant as I took my first sip.

I made no sign that I had noticed any of the byplay, as I drank more of what was in my glass. I couldn't find any taste to indicate the presence of anything but wine. It wasn't bad, for a colonial human vintage.

"Let me ask a blunt question," I suggested. "Just why _does_ the Alliance consider the Way a threat?"

"Why do wealthy and powerful people ever consider anything new a threat?" asked Elias. "We teach freedom, self-reliance, and solidarity against oppression. Respect for the truth, no matter what tradition or authority might say. The equality of all sentient beings before God. Any tyrant is going to mistrust us. Or anyone who wishes to be a tyrant."

Kamala shook her head, smiling indulgently. "Elias is probably right, as far as he goes, but he's an idealist. There are more pragmatic reasons why the authorities mistrust us. We're strong in the colonies, especially in the Traverse and further out in the Terminus Systems. We're critical of a lot of policies that are made back on the Citadel and on Earth without our input. We're tired of being economically and politically dependent on governments that don't serve our interests, and can't protect us from external threats."

"That last one is probably the most important," said Jeanne quietly. "We've been subject to _valdarii_ raids for many years now. The central governments haven't done anything to stop that. Some of us suspect they aren't _willing_ to do anything to stop that."

"The Confederation has sent punitive expeditions against the _valdarii_," I objected.

"Remarkably _ineffective_ expeditions," said Kamala dryly.

Something in her voice made me stare at her in disbelief. "Are you saying the Confederation and the Alliance . . ."

"Are cooperating with the barbarians?" The Spectre shrugged. "I don't know. It seems unlikely that anyone is actively coordinating with them. It's hard to do that when nobody even knows how to _talk_ to them. But let's say it wouldn't surprise me to find certain parties deliberately turning a blind eye, when the _valdarii_ move into human space. After all, they're only wrecking and killing people out in the colonies. Earth isn't under attack. The Citadel isn't under attack."

"That goes against everything the Confederation stands for," I said flatly.

"So does trying to assassinate a former President and her bondmate right on the Presidium."

"Hmm. You have a point."

Elias leaned forward, setting his coffee cup on the table. "Doctor, I know you're emotionally invested in the Confederation. After all, you're one of the people who established it in the first place. You and Steven Hackett, Ashley Williams, Miranda Lawson, Garrus Vakarian, Urdnot Wrex, Urdnot Bakara, Aethyta Melanis, Kolyat Krios, a few others . . . you accomplished _miracles_. On the wreckage of that terrible war, you helped build a galactic civilization that was democratic, free, and most of all, _sane_.

"But that was centuries ago. Maybe that doesn't feel like a long time for you asari, or for the krogan. It's plenty of time for the rest of us to go through many generations. It's plenty of time for institutions to harden, for power structures to become entrenched, for wealthy elites to rearrange things to suit themselves at the expense of everyone else. Democracy, freedom, the dignity of the individual, those are hard to maintain. They need a little revolution now and then if they're going to thrive."

I sat still in my chair, staring at him.

_Goddess. He sounds just like I did, in the years after the Reaper War. While I was doing my best to lead a revolution against certain institutions of asari society, and then against the Citadel Council itself._

_I haven't heard myself sounding like that in a long time._

_Maybe it's time to start._

"They say some terrible things about you, back on the Citadel," I said quietly.

"That's no surprise," answered Elias. "I get the impression you asari are pretty rational about religion. We humans aren't like that. We've got a long tradition of telling the most outrageous lies about people who don't share our religious ideas. Especially when faith starts calling the powerful to account."

"Sophisticated Romans accused the early Christians of incestuous orgies, child murder, and cannibalism," said Jeanne. "Of course, once Christianity became the dominant religion in most of Europe, they made many of the same accusations against Jews and pagans. It's an old story."

"President Yao was a little more restrained, but he did say you were in the habit of violating the Alliance charter."

Elias looked annoyed. "Doctor, it's possible to violate the Alliance charter by standing on a public street corner and talking about religion with your friends. If a stranger hears you and takes offense, he can have you up on human-rights charges. The Alliance responds to religious diversity by shoving all of it into the private sphere, so no one ever has to be confronted with it."

"That's the theory, at any rate," said Kamala. "In practice, minority religions are the ones that get hit with charter enforcement, and the courts tend to ignore appeals in those cases."

"Well," said Jeanne quietly, "there _is_ one other thing to which they object."

Kamala's face didn't change, but I saw Elias give his wife a very worried look.

"I'm guessing this is something I'm likely to find strange," I said dryly.

"You're right." Elias took a deep breath. "It's a new development, something that's been added to our initiation ceremonial for adults joining the Way. We share blood."

I frowned. "What do you mean, _you share blood?"_

"The initiate ingests a small portion of fresh blood donated by his or her sponsor," said Elias. "It's symbolic of the Way as an extended family."

Silence around the table. Elias and Jeanne watched me uneasily. Kamala remained impassive.

"Well," I said at last. "Speaking for myself, I will admit to finding that rather revolting. Speaking as a scientist . . . I've heard of religious practices far stranger and more vicious."

"Still. You can imagine how people outside the Way react to it," said Kamala. "Especially as the Alliance and the Confederation already use propaganda to encourage them to think badly of us."

"Yes. I suppose it doesn't matter, so long as you don't expect _me_ to take part."

A frozen moment of guilty expressions around the table.

I sighed. "Oh Goddess. You _do_ expect it."

"Say rather that we _hope_ you will agree to it," said Elias. "We're not asking you to become a formal convert, but the sharing of blood has . . . other implications."

"You may put that hope to rest at once," I told him. "I'm willing to consider helping you, but I have no interest whatsoever in joining the Way in any sense. Certainly not in _that_ sense."

Elias nodded, looking relieved.

"So let me sum up," I suggested. "From what I've seen, your religious beliefs and ethical teachings are perfectly reasonable. So are your practices, with one notable exception. If anything, the Way seems somewhat similar to my own beliefs and practices."

Kamala stirred. "Actually, Doctor, I'm curious. Your memoirs suggested that you gave up your commitment to the Athame doctrine during the Reaper War. You've returned to it?"

"In a sense." I sighed. "The process took a long time and a great deal of internal debate. I'm not sure now is the time for me to walk through all of that for you."

She made a palms-out gesture of surrender. "Certainly."

"In any event, I don't have any reason to object to your religion, even if I'm not interested in joining you in it. I _do_ have reason to object to the Alliance or the Confederation, if they're subjecting you to slander or persecution. Especially if they're using your religion as a pretext to deny Confederation citizens protection from the _valdarii_."

All three of them nodded cautiously.

"Meanwhile, I don't understand why President Yao considers my connection to your religion a danger. At this point I don't care. I didn't come into this expecting to be his enemy. Now he has attacked me and mine, without warning or any justification, actually _killing_ an acolyte who was one of my oldest friends." I heard my voice become cold and hard, perhaps a ghost of Benezia speaking through me. "He is about to discover just what it means to _make_ me his enemy."

Kamala and Elias exchanged a glance, a grim smile spreading across the Spectre's face.

"Now, let me tell you what brought me to the Citadel in the first place," I continued. "It started when a young quarian scientist turned up on my doorstep . . ."

I explained the entire story to them, backing up once or twice to provide some of the scientific background. All three of them were intelligent, well-educated humans, but none of them were deeply versed in astrophysics. It took a while.

While I spoke, I took the opportunity to watch their faces and body language. I was curious to see if they already knew any of the facts, given that their community had somehow guessed about Shepard's fate even before I published my memoirs.

Kamala was difficult to read even for me, but Elias and Jeanne were very open . . . and as I wrapped up my presentation, I became convinced they knew _something_ they were not telling me. It was as if they several times wanted to make comments or observations, but had to restrain themselves for fear of revealing something they didn't want me to know. I just couldn't tell what it might be.

I made no sign of having noticed, but I _did_ make a mental note for further investigation.

"Well. That was . . . rather startling," said Elias, once I had finished.

Kamala frowned, suddenly looking like a young war-goddess contemplating battle. "Clearly there's a lot more going on than any of us understood."

"Is it possible that this has nothing to do with the changes in the Alliance and the Confederation?" asked Jeanne.

I took a last sip of my wine, shaking my head as I put the glass down. "I suppose it's possible, but I think we have to guess that the two things are connected. They have a common element."

"The _valdarii_," said Kamala. "If it's true the Confederation is deliberately standing down from opposing them, we have to ask why."

"Yes." I glanced around at their faces, wondering whether it would be useful to _push_ a little. "I'm curious about something that may be relevant."

"What is it?" asked Elias.

"Just _how_ did the Way know what happened to Shepard, years _before_ I published my memoirs?"

_That did it._

As always, Kamala's face was perfectly disciplined, giving nothing away. Elias and Jeanne, on the other hand, gave each other a glance just short of panic.

"You're preparing to lie to me," I said quietly. "If you want my help, I would advise against it."

"Why do you think that information is relevant?" asked Kamala.

"Because President Yao clearly thought it was. After I told him everything I've told you, he didn't make any attempt to consult with me about a response to the _valdarii_ or the dying stars. All he showed an interest in was my memoirs, especially the last few chapters, where I revealed what I knew about Shepard's fate."

Elias took a deep breath. "Doctor, I'm afraid we _can't_ discuss that with you. Not yet."

"Does it have anything to do with the _valdarii_, or whatever is happening out on the galactic rim?"

"I don't see how," he said, and I didn't see any signs of deception in his face. "We're going to have to think about this."

I leaned back in my chair and looked around the table. "You do that."

* * *

I lay in my bed in the guest room for hours after retiring for the night, listening to muffled voices from the living room: Elias quiet and contemplative, Jeanne uneasy, and Kamala firm and confident.

Close to local midnight, they reached some conclusion. I rose silently from the bed as I heard the front door open and close. Standing to one side of the window, I eased the sheer curtain aside and looked down into the house's front yard.

Two human figures, hurrying down to the aircar pad: both of them pale, one tall and lanky, the other short and rather stout. Elias and Jeanne. I didn't see any sign of Kamala. Presumably she remained behind to stand watch over the reluctant guest, while the Way's leaders gathered to consult.

I stood quietly for a few minutes, listening for the sound of an aircar soaring off into the night. Listening for any sound from the only other inhabitant of the Clarke residence. Eventually I heard nothing but silence.

I glanced down at my right hand, where it hung by my side. Slowly, I clenched my fist.

_It's been about twelve hours since my virus got into the household systems. Including the synthesizer in the kitchen._

Blue-white fire sprang into being around my hand, for just a moment before I let it fade.

I nodded to myself.

_Step two: complete._


	10. Escape by Night

_**5 November 2580, Springfield Settlement, New Bretagne/Mindoir**_

I dressed as quietly as I could, thanking the Goddess for the very well-constructed floor. No telltale squeaks or groans sounded as I shifted my weight. Even fully dressed, I felt almost naked: _daimon_ almost disabled, no omni-tool, no sidearm, and no vehicle. Well, if everything went according to plan I would be able to take all of those away from my enemies.

I slipped out the door, moved to the head of the stairs, listened intently. I could see light from the living room, and after a few moments I heard someone shifting her weight as she sat in one of the easy chairs. The Spectre remained awake and on guard.

I reviewed the layout of the house's ground floor. I thought about the time I would need to reach various positions, the probable speed with which Kamala would react. I needed to keep her unaware for about three seconds. Everything converged on a single solution.

I walked down the stairs, making no effort to be quiet. At the bottom of the stairs I turned right to move out into the kitchen, flipping on the light as I entered the room.

"Dr. T'Soni?" Kamala's voice from the living area, no tension apparent in her voice.

"Out here," I called, opening and closing a cupboard, setting a ceramic mug out on the counter, all to make the right kind of noises. "I felt like a late cup of hot chocolate."

I heard her get up from her chair, her footsteps on the hardwood floor.

I took two quick steps to my left, and waited.

Kamala appeared in the doorway.

Just in time for my right fist, backed by the full strength of my biotic corona, to smash across her jaw.

Her feet left the floor as she flew about three meters back into the living area. She crashed backwards into a storage cabinet, glass shattering and ceramic plates smashing on the floor around her.

She fell to one knee, shaking her head, and looked up in stunned surprise.

There was nothing wrong with her reflexes or her strength of will. She took one glance at the asari bearing down on her, ablaze with dark energy, eyes glowing with blue-white rage. Then she dove to one side, one hand already flashing to her hip to draw her sidearm.

_You just escalated to deadly force. Mistake, Spectre._

"_Ai!"_ A vicious kick sent the heavy pistol went flying away. If I was any judge, it also broke at least two bones in her forearm and wrist.

_Flash._ Somehow she sent an overload charge through her omni-tool, probably through a link from her VI implant. It struck my biotic barrier hard, sending me reeling back with all my senses tingling madly for an instant. The room lighting flickered and went out, leaving us in near-darkness.

Then I had no time to think. I deflected blows and spin-kicks on sheer reflex, countering with bursts of biotic force, giving way one step, and then two. I ignored what our combat did to the furnishings around us. The Clarkes would find a lot of wreckage when they came home.

_She's very good. Better than Ashley Williams on her best day. Possibly as good as Shepard. Four hundred years ago she would have mopped the floor with me._

_Today that's not quite enough._

I stepped up my speed just a bit, enough to get inside her decision loop. Block, deflect, and then _attack_. One blow to her midsection, then another, all my strength and considerable biotic force behind them. I heard ribs snap.

"_Hnnh,"_ she said, reeling backward.

For that instant, her guard fell to pieces. I could turn and apply a technique Vara once showed me. My fist hammered into the right side of her neck, although I pulled back some of the biotic force. I wanted to disable Kamala, not kill her outright.

It worked. Her knees buckled, and she collapsed to the floor.

_Step three: complete._

I spared a moment to check her breathing and pulse. Another to strip the omni-tool from her left forearm, and recover her sidearm from where it had come to rest.

Then I cursed, realizing the gap in my plans. I hadn't prepared any way to _secure_ the Spectre. She would probably wake up in ten minutes – or less, depending on the degree to which she had taken genetic and bionic enhancements. Then, broken bones and possible concussion or not, she would pursue.

Of course, I could kill her.

I considered it for a long moment.

Then I shook my head and hurried out of the house, heading for the aircar pad.

The Clarkes had taken one of their vehicles, when they left to consult with their allies. The other remained on the pad. A moment's test told me that my virus had reached the aircar's autopilot, tearing down their access controls. I piled into the pilot's chair and tapped at the console. The car rose into the night, turning and accelerating south-west. About ninety minutes to New Paris and the asari consulate.

I examined Kamala's omni-tool, then pulled it onto my own arm and activated it in low-security mode. A moment's frantic tapping of fingers on my right hand, and my _daimon_ began to interface with the device.

"Come on, _come on . . ."_ I muttered.

It took almost five minutes, and I had become frantic with worry by the time the process finished. The Spectre's omni-tool must have been _very_ well fortified against intrusion. Then I felt the success signal, a short fierce itch on the back of my right hand, and I could stop grinding my teeth.

Tap-tap-tap-tap. _Go._

A very strange sensation occurred in the back of my mind, like a sudden vacancy. Then it felt like a symphony orchestra tuning up, functions coming back online one at a time, and then synchronizing.

_{Dr. T'Soni. I have disabled the blocks imposed by Spectre Sarabhai. First-tier diagnostic complete. I appear to be free of malware and external constraints.}_

_{Thank the Goddess. Can you reach the extranet?}_

_{Not at this time. The environment lacks access points.}_

I nodded to myself. The aircar was a frontier model, with no extranet access. Out the window, I couldn't see a single light to indicate settlement. I would need to get out of the Mindoir outback before I could call for help.

_{All right. Daimon, take a message for either Vara T'Rathis or Miranda Keldaris: I'm alive and well on Mindoir, currently trying to escape from the Way. Come get me. If I'm not free to join you when you get here, use any available means to make a rescue. Don't trust the Confederation or the Alliance. President Yao was behind the assassination attempts on us. Don't trust the Mindoir planetary government either. The Way seems to be in control of this world. Be careful. I love you.}_

_{Recorded.}_

_{Daimon, the __**instant**__ you're within range of an access point, send that message with alpha-level encryption. Hack through a firewall if you have to. You have my authorization to use all the special tricks Vara and I have taught you.}_

_{Acknowledged, Doctor.}_

I stripped Kamala's omni-tool from my arm and looked at it for a long moment. No doubt there would be all manner of useful information on it, but I couldn't trust the Spectre not to put logic bombs and trap doors around the most interesting data. I couldn't even risk having the thing close to my _daimon_ for a moment longer than necessary. Reluctantly, I cracked open the aircar's hatch for a moment and tossed the device out into open space.

I sat in the pilot's seat, watching the controls with half of my mind, thinking and planning with the rest. With my immediate fight-or-flight needs behind me, I felt miserably weary. I might even have dozed for a few minutes.

I snapped awake when the aircar's comm unit hissed into life.

"_Civilian vehicle seven-five-nine-nine-six-four-two, this is the New Bretagne __**gendarmerie**__. You are in violation of seven provisions of Mindoir criminal code. You will come about to three-fifty-five and prepare to land."_

I checked the radar. Three air vehicles, closing fast from _ahead_ of me, between me and the capital.

_{Daimon, interface with the car's navigation system. Where is the nearest settlement likely to have an extranet access point?}_

_{Tyneham is approximately twenty kilometers due south.}_

I took manual control, making a turn to my left. I could see lights in the darkness on the horizon, a small town in about the right place.

"_Civilian vehicle, this is your final warning. Come about or we will fire upon you."_

I opened the channel. "New Bretagne _gendarmerie_, my name is Dr. Liara T'Soni. I am a citizen of the Asari Republics. _You may have heard of me._ I have been illegally detained on this planet and am in the process of escaping from my captors. If you prefer to avoid an incident that would rise to the level of the Citadel Confederation, I would advise you to permit me to proceed to New Paris. I will answer any criminal charges once I have had a chance to consult with my government."

No response over the radio. Instead, I saw flares in the night sky, from above me and to my right.

_Goddess. They __**are**__ firing on me!_

I jinked back and forth, trying to generate a miss but without much hope of success. A civilian aircar couldn't evade military-grade weapons fire for long.

One missile swept by, then two. The third exploded about twenty meters ahead of me.

Close enough. Fortunately it wasn't the piece of high-explosive ordnance that might have shredded my aircar entirely. Instead a great electrical discharge leapt into the night, arcing over to the aircar's body. In the passenger compartment I was protected, but almost every system on board flickered and went down at once.

The car began to lose altitude and forward velocity. After a moment, I remembered the safety features. The vehicle would do its best to make a soft landing.

I glanced out the forward windows. The cluster of lights marking Tyneham was coming closer. I didn't know my own altitude anymore and couldn't make an accurate estimate of its distance. It certainly _looked_ close enough to reach on foot, once I was on the ground. Assuming I survived that far.

_Although they will certainly try to stop me._

Lower. Lower still. Then . . .

_Slam!_

The aircar coasted in canted up from the surface, its tail coming down first, then the whole body crashing down and skidding across the ground. Fortunately I arrived on a grassy slope, not a forest or a field of stones. The impact shook me, slammed me about in the restraints until I feared I would lose consciousness. When the vehicle finally slewed to a stop, I found myself awake and without any broken bones.

_Quite the spectacular collection of bruises, though._

Painfully, I popped the hatch and slapped the release on the safety restraints. At the last moment I recovered Kamala's sidearm. Then I tumbled out of the aircar, took a moment to orient myself, and _ran_.

Well. _Staggered_ would be more accurate.

Across the open slope, then into a belt of trees, I moved as quickly as I could. Soon I began to recover from the shock of that terrible landing. My strides grew more even and assured, and I gained the presence of mind to check the weapon I had stolen. A Kendall-Tower R-8 heavy pistol, modified for a larger thermal clip. Not the make I usually favored, and I preferred submachine guns in any case, but it would do.

I took a deep breath and picked up the pace.

Running through darkness, in an untamed area on a strange planet, is a rather frightening experience. I half-expected some specimen of the local wildlife to rise up and take a bite out of me. Or perhaps it would be something more prosaic. Stepping into a hole or tripping over an exposed root, for example, so I would fall and break my ankle. Or my neck.

I called up my biotics, just a low-power corona around my shoulders and upper arms, enough to make some light. That helped. I could move a little faster. Old skills in broken-field running began to return.

Lights and movement, in the woods some distance off to my right.

I moved to the left, circling around, keeping to cover and dropping my corona so that I wouldn't stand out in the darkness.

_Probably should have worn a color other than white_. _If the Clarkes had provided anything suitable._

Within a few minutes, I had no doubt at all. Humans were in the wilderness, small parties searching in the night. Hunting for me.

I kept moving, avoiding the humans, using my _daimon_ to help avoid getting turned about.

Then, all at once, I came to the end of the wilderness. Ahead of me I saw a cluster of buildings, lights and signs of habitation. Unfortunately I also saw three vehicles with official markings, and a team of armed, alert _gendarmes_.

_{Daimon, can you reach an access point?}_

_{I can detect one somewhere ahead. The signal strength is not sufficient for a handshake.}_

_{Keep trying.}_

Slowly, carefully, I moved under cover to my right.

I almost made it.

"_There!"_

I sprang to my feet, threw a _singularity_ at the _gendarmes_, and sprinted.

Gunfire pursued me.

_I am sick unto death of being chased by insane humans_.

Twenty meters. Forty.

_{I have a handshake. Transmitting.}_

I ducked into an alley between two storage buildings, and then cursed venomously. It was a dead end, closed off at the far end by some kind of enormous storage tank.

_{Your message is on the extranet, Doctor.}_

_Well, at least Vara will know what happened to me._

Running footsteps behind me. I could also hear the hum of mass-effect engines, more vehicles on the approach. Reinforcements, no doubt.

I took cover behind a stack of shipping crates, and prepared to sell my life as dearly as I could.

Several humans appeared at the opening to my alley, but they dove for cover when they saw my corona up and a fusillade of _warps_ flying at them.

I ducked back as a hail of gunfire came at me.

It felt familiar. Duck out, just long enough to fire a few shots with the sidearm, or send a biotic effect howling down-range. Duck back before your biotic barrier comes down. Wait one, two, _three_ seconds while it recovers, then duck out again.

The Mindoir _gendarmes_ weren't nearly as dangerous as a squadron of cannibals led by a banshee. Sooner or later, though, they would bring up enough force to overwhelm me.

For a moment, I considered surrender.

_No. If they want me, they're going to have to come and get me._

One of them went down, shattered by a biotic warp. Then another fell to a bullet from Kamala's sidearm.

Then they started throwing flash-bang grenades. _Crack-crack-CRACK_, the last one coming too close for comfort. Without my barriers in place, I would probably have been knocked senseless.

_All right, Liara, they're stepping up their game. Now what?_

_Now what_ turned out to be a sudden silence. All at once, the _gendarmes_ stopped firing at me. I heard human voices at the opening of my alley, shouting in anger.

I peeked out.

"Stand down, damn it!" A rough male voice, congested with fury. "You're going to kill her!"

"She killed Bertrand and Watkins," another voice objected.

"That's because you idiots treated her like a dangerous criminal and _shot her out of the sky._ What did you expect from a five-hundred-year old asari, who's fought against enemies that would make you crap your pants in terror, in more battles than you can count without unzipping your fucking trousers? _Stand down!"_

No more objections made themselves known. A single figure stepped out into the opening, its hands held high and conspicuously empty.

Light fell on its face.

I felt my blood pressure drop, and nearly pitched forward in a dead faint.

Human. Male. Tall and in superb physical condition, broad of shoulder and narrow of waist. He wore civilian clothes. His face looked strange, older than I remembered, with a shock of brown hair and a neatly trimmed beard I had never seen on him before. Crystal-blue eyes watched the corner where I huddled behind cover.

"Liara? It's safe to come out."

That voice, _that voice_, suddenly utterly familiar.

"_Shepard?"_


	11. Return

_**5 November 2580, Tyneham Settlement, New Bretagne/Mindoir**_

I stepped out from behind my cover. I walked over to him, hardly feeling my legs, the weapon still in my right hand but forgotten.

Nobody shot me, which probably constituted a miracle under the circumstances.

Up close, the resemblance was terribly strong. He was missing one or two scars. Body language, facial expression, all of it fit old memories like hand in glove. His face communicated anger, frustration, and unease for the situation . . . and an ancient _hunger_ that he could not keep out of his intense stare. I think I was convinced even then. No mere actor or biological construct would look at me in quite that manner. Not unless he genuinely had Shepard's personality and memories to call upon.

Slowly, he lowered his hands to his sides, still staring at me as I approached.

An arm's length away, I tucked the sidearm into my belt. Reached up. Touched his face.

It felt strange. Shepard had never worn a beard when I had known him before. The only other human I ever had an intimate relationship with had been a woman. I had no experience to compare. The hair was softer than I expected, the skin over his cheekbones just as I remembered it. His head turned slightly, an almost unconscious movement, to press into the touch. Then he froze, the flesh around his eyes pinching as if he suppressed a sudden pain.

I opened my mind, inviting contact.

He recognized the sensation and nodded slightly.

"_Embrace eternity,"_ I whispered, closing my eyes for an instant, then opening them again on another universe.

I didn't dive deep or stay for long. It had been almost four hundred years, and the situation was too fraught. At least he was cooperative. It took me only a few moments to learn the two things I most wanted to know.

I blinked, my eyes returned to their normal color, the link shattering under a wave of _rage_.

_Crack!_

He recoiled slightly from the impact of my palm across his cheek.

"You _nothos!_ Fifteen years you've been back, _fifteen years,_ and not a _word_ to me?"

He took a deep breath, let it out slowly, and braced his shoulders. The gesture was so quintessentially _Shepard_ that it nearly tore a scream from my throat.

"Liara. I'm sorry. That's not how I wanted it to be . . . but the mission comes first."

"The _mission?_ What . . ." I saw it then. "Goddess. The Intelligence sent you back, and it wasn't for my sake at all."

"No." He shook his head, not in negation, more in confusion. "I don't remember everything. Sometimes I think I remember almost _nothing_. There's just no way for everything the Intelligence is, everything it knows, to be crammed into my skull. But I know it sent me out into the galaxy for a reason. To do something on the human scale, something it couldn't do on its own or with the Reapers for its agents."

"You don't think I would have been willing to help?" I demanded. "Shepard, just _one word_ and I would have come running."

"I know. That's why I didn't do it." His hand rose, as if to touch me, and then fell back to his side. He dropped his gaze. For a moment he looked almost _defeated_. "Liara, one thing I do know is that we're all in terrible danger. This is going to be a war before it's done, a war worse than anything we've seen since the Reapers. I'm not sure I'm going to survive it. Not sure I'm _meant_ to survive it."

"You think the Intelligence will call you back, once this _mission_ of yours is finished?"

"I don't know." He looked up and into my eyes once more. "It seems likely. I didn't want to walk back into your life only to leave you _again_. Besides, one thing I _do_ have from the Intelligence is everything it knows about what _you've_ been doing for the last few centuries. I know that you and Vara are together. I know you've been happy for a long time. That's another reason why contacting you would have been . . . damnably selfish."

"Oh Shepard." I sighed, somehow no longer able to stay angry at him. "For once I wish you _had_ been selfish. Do you know what it does to me, knowing that you've been out here, working and fighting for _years_, and I haven't been here to help you? No matter what else we might be to each other, at the very least I am your _friend."_

"I'm sorry, Liara."

Once more I reached up and ran my fingertips through the soft fur on his face. "I forgive you. Just don't ever let it happen again."

He gave me a grim smile. "Next time the Intelligence sends me out on a mission to save the galaxy, I'll bear that in mind."

"So what made you decide to break your cover now?"

"It seemed like the only way to save your life from this _pack of fools,"_ he said, anger back in his tone, turning away from me to glare back the way he had come.

As if summoned, several other humans appeared at the entrance to my alley, approaching us cautiously. Elias and Jeanne Clarke, looking pale and anxious. Kamala Sarabhai, her face swollen, her movements rather cautious, staring at me with open resentment. A man in a _gendarmerie_ uniform, short but rugged and tough. An older woman in civilian clothes, with cold cunning in her steel-gray eyes.

"Liara, you already know the Clarkes and Ms. Sarabhai. This is Captain Jean-Pierre Masquelier, commander of the local _gendarmerie_. This is Marie Césaire, chair of the Spiritual Assembly of Mindoir, and the closest thing the Way has to an overall leader. Ladies and gentlemen, this is Dr. Liara T'Soni, formerly President of the Citadel Confederation. All of you are _damned_ lucky she's alive and unhurt."

"If this is T'Soni, then she's under arrest," said Captain Masquelier.

"On what charges?" I asked mildly.

"Assault, manslaughter, murder, reckless endangerment, illegal operation of a vehicle, theft, grand theft, several counts of computer crime, and resisting arrest," he said grimly. "That will do for a beginning."

"All right. Then I accuse Kamala Sarabhai, Elias Clarke, and Jeanne Clarke of assault, kidnapping, false imprisonment, administering controlled substances to an unwilling subject, and multiple violations of the Alliance human-rights charter." I paused for a deep breath. "I also accuse the Spiritual Assembly of Mindoir, the colonial government of Mindoir, and the _gendarmerie_ of the province of New Bretagne of complicity in all of these crimes. By all means, let's take this to an Alliance court and get it sorted out."

That worked. Masquelier's expression remained stubbornly set, but the other colonials all glanced at each other uneasily.

"Captain, I think we both know you won't be placing Liara under arrest." Shepard stepped in front of the _gendarme,_ looming over him. "Especially since you would have to go through _me_ to lay a hand on her."

"Blessed one . . ." began Césaire.

"_Enough!"_ Shepard roared, one hand lashing out to point an accusatory finger. "I told you when I first arrived: _contact Liara and get her help_. I told you again, when she published her memoirs: _you need Liara and her people on your side_. You did not listen. You decided this was a human-only problem, and you wouldn't need to work with anyone else. Then when Kamala got the brilliant idea of _kidnapping_ Liara and bringing her here, I warned you what would happen. I warned you what Liara is capable of, and I warned you what she would do if she got the chance. Every single thing that has happened tonight _is on_ _your head."_

Shepard glared around him, at all the citizens of what had once been his homeworld, long ago.

"You people congratulate yourselves on _knowing the truth_, on being the only ones who can see how the universe really works. You think of yourselves as a persecuted minority of the faithful and true.

"Well, I think you're a gang of liars. You claim to revere my predecessor as a prophet, someone who spoke for God. Well, it seems to me that reverence is pretty hollow. You would much rather my predecessor stay up on the pedestal where you put him, nice and quiet and safe, so you can go ahead and use your _religion_ to justify doing whatever you please. You wouldn't listen to him if he came back. I know that for a fact because I'm as close as you're going to get, and you sure as hell don't listen to _me_ very well.

"Now that you have fouled this situation up so _very_ thoroughly, you _are_ going to listen to me.

"You are going to let Liara go. You are going to provide an escort for her to New Paris and the asari consulate, where she is going to be left alone until her people come for her. You are going to beg her forgiveness, and then you are going to stand by and shut up while I tell her the truth. _All of it_.

"If you do not agree to all of the above right here and now, then I wash my hands of you. I will leave Mindoir for good. I will go elsewhere in the galaxy and look for help there. And I will let the galaxy know just what's going on, here on Mindoir and on the other worlds where the Way has taken over. How far you've got your hooks into the secular colonial governments. How willing you are to use that power against dissidents and outsiders, against anyone who refuses to sign up for your little cult."

Once more, he looked around and stared into one pair of eyes after another.

Césaire stirred. "Blessed one, you must understand. You have told us that a terrible crisis is coming. If any of us are to be saved, we can't _afford_ to have people in our midst who are not committed to the cause."

Shepard's face changed, and I shivered at what I saw there: bitter contempt.

"You prove my point," he said, in a voice that sounded calm but could never have been confused for gentleness. "If my predecessor taught anything, it was that even the bitterest enemies can forgive one another, work together against a common danger, live together afterwards in peace. That's a _better_ way to live. That's what brought the galaxy together to fight the Reapers.

"But no, that doesn't work for _you_. You think you know better. You think the old ways are the only ones that work. Ruthlessness. Force. Violence. Hatred and oppression. The same old story. If the Way ever comes out on top, it will just be one more damned theocracy. You haven't learned a thing, from my predecessor or from me."

I glanced around the circle. Césaire looked defiant, her jaw set and her eyes alive with resentment. The Clarkes appeared more _ashamed_ than anything else. Kamala, on the other hand, had lost her sullen expression and now seemed almost thoughtful.

"So what's it going to be, Captain?" asked Shepard, turning back to the _gendarme_.

Significantly, the officer glanced at Césaire. She gave him a stiff nod.

"All right, Mr. Shepard," he growled at last. "As you say. No charges to be filed against Dr. T'Soni, and we'll see to it that she gets safely to New Paris as soon as we're done here."

"Good." Shepard turned back to Marie Césaire, leveling his _command stare_ at her. "I'm waiting, Marie."

She bristled for a moment, but then discretion proved the better part of valor. She stepped forward to stand before me, and then (to my astonishment) she went down on one knee and bowed her head.

"Blessed Widow . . ."

"That is _not my name,"_ I said coldly.

She sighed, and then started over, sounding a little more natural this time. "Dr. T'Soni. On behalf of the Spiritual Assembly of Mindoir, and all the community of the Way . . . I apologize for our mistreatment of you. It was a terrible mistake. Please forgive us."

"I accept your apology," I said formally. "I will also wait to see whether your repentance is sincere."

* * *

_**5 November 2580, New Paris, Capital District/Mindoir**_

Two hours later, three _gendarmerie_ vehicles landed just outside the asari consulate in New Paris. Five of us emerged and crossed the open courtyard.

Eudokia T'Marr met us, the consul assigned to Mindoir, a sharp-looking asari matron about my age. "Dr. T'Soni, I'm pleased to welcome you here . . . but I didn't know you were on Mindoir."

"It was an unplanned visit," I told her, not wanting to go into the details just yet. "Has there been any word from my bondmate?"

"Yes. Matron Vara just contacted us. She and the _Normandy_ should be here within a few hours." Then T'Marr looked over my shoulder at my companions, and her eyes went wide. "Goddess. That looks like . . ."

"Yes." I sighed. "Consul T'Marr, may I introduce Elias and Jeanne Clarke, citizens of Mindoir, Kamala Sarabhai, also a citizen of Mindoir and a Citadel Spectre . . . and William Allen Shepard."

"How is this possible?" she breathed.

"I'm not certain myself," I told her. "Consul, I want diplomatic sanctuary for all four of these humans. Ms. Sarabhai and Mr. Shepard in particular need to be put under the protection of the Asari Republics."

"Of course," she said briskly, taking refuge in routine. "Welcome, all of you."

"We'll need a place to rest for a few hours, and then somewhere to meet in private once _Normandy_ arrives. There's a great deal you should be aware of as well."

"I'll make all the arrangements."

The consul was as good as her word. Within minutes, consulate staff guided our party into the guest suites, where they had quickly prepared rooms for all. I spoke briefly to the others, exchanged a last glance with Shepard, and then went to my room to collapse onto a soft bed. Alone.

I was exhausted. Even so, it took a long time of staring at the ceiling for me to fall asleep.

_Goddess. Shepard is alive. He's **alive**._

_He still loves me. He still wants me, just as much as he ever did. It's plain every time he looks at me._

_How do I feel about that? How is Vara going to feel about that?_

I finally lost consciousness, still thinking about it.

* * *

Morning. When I emerged into the suite's common area, I found Shepard already there, sitting at a table, drinking a cup of black coffee, and paging through files on an ordinary omni-tool.

"Good morning," I said lightly, trying not to remember the thoughts that had kept me awake. "I see four hundred years and elevation to the status of galactic Intelligence haven't changed your taste in beverages."

He snorted. "Hey, I never insisted _you_ drink it."

"That's true. Where is everyone else?"

"I haven't seen Elias or Jeanne. Kamala got up early and went to see the consulate's medical staff. Good Lord, Liara, you really cleaned her clock."

"I took her by surprise. In fact, I worked very hard for two days to take her by surprise. She's too dangerous for a fair fight." I sat down at his table, using my _daimon_ to send an order for hot chocolate to the kitchen staff. "I think it's time you lay some of your cards on the table."

"That could take hours," he warned me.

"Then give me the executive summary," I suggested. "I don't have enough facts even to start building a picture. I know about the rot in the Confederation, and I know about the _valdarii_ and the dying stars out on the galactic rim. What I can't fathom is how the two can possibly be connected."

"I'm not sure how much help I can be. I didn't even know about the stars going wrong until Elias and Jeanne came running in last night with the news from you. Which suggests that even the Intelligence might not be aware of it."

"I find that rather disturbing."

"You and me both." He took a long sip of his coffee, his expression going distant. "What I can tell you is that there's _something_ out there in the wild spaces. Call it . . . _the Adversary_. The Intelligence has known of its existence for a long time, but its nature is a mystery. It's very old and very powerful. I think it's been _watching_ the galaxy for a long time. Waiting for some opportunity to occur."

"Hmm." Just then my mug of hot chocolate arrived. I thanked the server and took my first scalding-sweet sip. "It's interesting that this _Adversary_ should decide to act just as the Reapers have given up their extinction cycle."

"I don't think that's a coincidence. Although it seems odd that the stellar anomalies are thousands of years older than the final Reaper invasion, the one you and I fought to defeat."

"They're not as old as the _previous_ cycle," I pointed out. "The Prothean cycle."

He nodded slowly. "That's true. Although I don't see what it signifies."

"Neither do I, but it's worth considering." I frowned in thought for a moment. "So what does this _Adversary_ have to do with our current troubles?"

"It's the common element, Liara. The Intelligence has been able to uncover some of its activities. The Adversary is behind the _valdarii._ It's also behind a lot of what's been going wrong in the Alliance, and more broadly in the Confederation. It has some method for influencing organic minds. Like Reaper indoctrination or Leviathan enthrallment, but more subtle. There may be millions of people among the Citadel races who are under its influence, some of them in positions of power."

"Like a puppet master," I suggested. "Playing us off against the _valdarii_ for some purpose of its own."

He nodded.

"The question then is _why."_

"I don't know," he said. "I don't think the Intelligence knows. Whatever this Adversary is, it's very good at keeping itself concealed."

"Maybe that's part of what you were sent to accomplish . . ." I began, but then I had to stop.

Shepard had cocked his head, as if listening to some sound only he could hear. He half-rose from the table.

The door burst open. Kamala appeared, Consul T'Marr three steps behind her, both of them looking rather stunned.

"An alert just came in," said the Spectre. "Mindoir is under attack. A big fleet just dropped out of FTL a few light-seconds out and is engaging the planetary defense grid."

"Is it the Alliance?" Shepard asked.

"No."

The Valdarii War had begun.


	12. Invasion

_**5 November 2580, New Paris, Capital District/Mindoir**_

I thought quickly, calling up a detailed map of the mass-relay network from my _daimon_. "The Alliance can't get a fleet here for at least a day," I concluded.

"Assuming the Alliance bothers to defend Mindoir in the first place," said Kamala bitterly. "I think we're on our own."

"How soon will _Normandy_ be here?" Shepard asked.

"Within the hour, as of the last report," answered the consul.

I shook my head. "Shepard, _Normandy_ is a good ship, but I wouldn't pit her against an entire fleet."

"She's right, Shepard," said Kamala. "The report I saw from the planetary defense grid is that the _valdarii_ have at least three dreadnought-class ships and a heavy squadron of cruisers. This is no simple raid, it's an invasion."

Shepard nodded, his face dark with apprehension. "I think we had better get out of New Paris. If they punch through the planetary defense squadrons, we have no idea what they'll do. They may decide to drop a few megatons on every major city on the planet."

"Consul, do you have a plan to evacuate this facility?"

T'Marr stared at me with wide eyes. "Yes, Doctor, but it was never designed to face a full-scale invasion. The only way we have to get everyone off-planet at once is to call for help from the homeworld."

Shepard and I exchanged glances. It felt strange, old memories surging to the surface, helping me to read him like an open book.

_You asari have been at peace for way too long_.

He took command. "Consul, where is your arms locker?"

"Just down the hall," said T'Marr at once.

"All right. Do whatever you have to do to destroy sensitive records," he ordered. "Find the Clarkes, and gather everybody there. We're going to hand out every weapon and piece of protective gear you have, and then we're going to head for the Universal House of Justice."

I frowned. "The headquarters for the Way? Why there?"

"Because that's where Kamala's weapons and gear are. Not to mention a few pieces of technology I had with me when I arrived on Mindoir."

"Reaper technology?"

He grinned. _"Better."_

Just then we began to hear a mournful sound from outside the building: sirens, rising and falling like the voices of damned souls, warning the city of imminent attack.

"We should hurry," said Shepard.

Five minutes later, the consulate stood empty and eleven of us were moving through the streets of New Paris: Shepard, Kamala, the Clarkes, Consul T'Marr, her primary attaché, four asari from the consulate staff, and me. All of us were armed, even Elias and Jeanne carrying sidearms that they seemed competent to use. Two humans who worked at the consulate had refused to come, choosing to take their chances with their own people.

Mindoir's citizens impressed me. Their world had not come under serious attack since the Salarian Wars, but they had obviously maintained a tradition of readiness. Members of the militia and the _gendarmerie_ moved to prepared muster points, to arm themselves and wait for developments. Civilians fled to their designated shelters, but quietly, efficiently. I saw no mobs, no snarls of traffic, and no flocks of aircars fleeing to the countryside. Our party had no difficulty moving through the city, crossing the distance of a little over a kilometer between the asari consulate and the Universal House of Justice.

Shepard led us, still in civilian clothes but with a kinetic barrier in place, striding along with a borrowed assault rifle in his hands, watching the quarters with all his old alertness. I found it very difficult to pull my gaze away from him. Every line of his figure, every element of his carriage, every shifting expression on his face, all of it was familiar as centuries of wistful dreams.

I think the fact was finally sinking in.

_Shepard is here. Four hundred years of waiting, and wondering, and building a life without him, and now he's here again._

I should have been joyful. Instead I felt only confusion. I almost thanked the Goddess for the immediate crisis, giving me an excuse to put my emotions on the shelf and _keep moving_.

The Way's headquarters turned out to be an imposing building, faced all in gleaming white marble, surrounded by trees, grassy lawns, and colorful beds of flowers. I found it quite beautiful, and under better circumstances I would have been tempted to take a tour. We found a surprising number of people converging on the building ahead of us. Shepard explained that one of the largest and strongest bomb shelters in the city had been built beneath it.

As we approached, many of the people took notice of us. They nodded to Elias Clarke, gawked at the asari in our party, stared with wide eyes when they saw and recognized me.

When they recognized Shepard, many of them stopped and bowed deeply before moving on.

"Have they been doing that ever since you got here?" I asked, not sure whether I felt amusement or disgust.

"I'm afraid so," he muttered. "I quit trying to get them to stop years ago."

"You've been _accepting_ their worship?"

"Not worship. I've been very firm with them about that." He sighed, nodding to a group of several humans who had stopped to bow as we passed. "In fact, I've done my best to distinguish between myself and the other Shepards, the ones who fought the Reapers. They were my _predecessors_. I don't share their identities, just their memories and personality. I'm a new . . . _instantiation_ of the old model."

"I remember having this discussion with you long ago. You think of yourself as a distinct person once again?"

"I _know_ I am, Liara. The Intelligence knows things about identity, memory, and consciousness that our civilization won't understand for a long time." He gave me a gentle smile. "Although you were right about one thing, last time we had this talk. For all practical purposes, I'm as much William Allan Shepard as those other two men once were. I think like they did. I remember being them."

"Good." I almost reached out to touch his shoulder, but then stopped myself at the last moment. "The galaxy has missed you. Although here on Mindoir it seems that some of us missed you a little _too_ much."

We reached the front entrance of the building. People moved aside to give Shepard room, as he led us through the enormous doors.

"They didn't miss _me,_" he said, as we stepped out into a great entrance hall. "They missed an idealized image they made up and pretended was me. I've chosen to accept their _respect_, even while I've tried to make clear that I don't deserve any more than that. It was part of the mission. I was sent here specifically because the Way had already taken root."

"They provided you with a base to work from?"

"Something like that. Once I proved who I was, I didn't have to start from scratch, convincing people of what needed to be done."

"_That _must have been nice," I observed, remembering our struggle to convince the galaxy of the existence of the Reapers.

"It helped. I wish they would pay attention to more of what I had to tell them."

We stopped as Marie Césaire approached us, crossing a beautiful mosaic floor. "Blessed one. Why have you brought so many strangers into this House?"

"That's not for you to question, Marie." Shepard glanced around, evaluating the situation. "Kamala and I need to get into the secure vault."

"Of course," said Césaire, although she looked less than pleased. "Will you and Ms. Sarabhai take part in the defense of Mindoir?"

"First we have a responsibility to ensure our _guests_ get away safely. Then we'll see how things stand."

"We're your people, blessed one," she said, almost pleading with him. "Don't abandon us in our hour of need."

Shepard stood very still for a moment, staring at her. Then he spoke, a tone in his voice I had never heard before, and I shivered to hear it now. Despite everything, I _could_ almost believe that I heard a prophet, delivering pronouncements from the divine realm.

"All those who live in this galaxy are _my people,_ Marie. All of them. Human or not. Members of the Way or not. If the Way refuses to understand that and act accordingly, then _the Way has failed."_

Her eyes wide, Césaire stepped back and away from him. Then she nodded, reluctantly.

Shepard led us toward the back of the building, down a ramp to the first basement level. There he stepped up to a heavy metal door, entering a pass-code and permitting his eyes to be scanned.

_Boom_. The door cracked open and swung wide.

Kamala immediately pounced on her armor and gear, the same black ensemble I had seen her use on the Citadel. I had to smile at Elias, who rather hurriedly turned his back while the Spectre stripped down and began to assemble her armor.

Shepard did the same, tossing his shirt, jacket, and trousers carelessly aside as he moved toward the back of the vault. I followed him, curious to see what equipment the Intelligence had sent for him . . . but I also caught myself appreciating the look of him, nearly naked and from the rear.

_Goddess, now is not the time!_

There, in the very back of the vault: a tall human-like shape all in bright silver, gleaming almost mirror-bright, all smooth curves without a single straight line or sharp edge. It looked more like a work of art than a piece of combat gear. Its surface showed not a single seam, rivet, or control. I couldn't even see how he could get into or out of it.

"This is combat armor?" I asked him.

He smiled down at me. "Oh yes."

"Have you had a chance to use it?"

"Not in combat. I've had it out to practice with it a few times. I seem to know how to use it, almost by instinct."

"Will you need any help putting it on?"

He turned to face me, a wicked grin on his face. "No . . . and that was the clumsiest excuse to feel me up I've ever heard."

"_Shepard!"_

Still smiling, he simply stepped back one pace, as if he intended to knock the armor over . . . but instead it _flowed_ out and around him, covering his entire body in moments. Instead of a lifeless suit of armor, now it became his second skin, permitting him to move freely.

"I'm impressed," I told him. "Nanotechnology?"

"Very advanced nanotechnology," came his voice, sounding perfectly natural. The mirror surface over the front of his head shimmered for an instant, and then seemed to vanish, revealing his face. I didn't see any sign of a HUD or any controls inside his helmet, but then I realized the armor must interface directly with his brain.

"Where are the weapons?"

"The suit itself has some offensive functions," he explained, "but here's the main gun."

He opened a case on a table next to him, and produced . . . something. It looked more like an abstract sculpture than a weapon, about forty centimeters long when he picked it up, but then it unfolded to about twice that length. I saw no sign of a trigger or a scope, although it did appear to have a muzzle at the far end. The whole mechanism seemed to _merge_ with the armor over his right arm, with no need for his left hand to hold or steady it.

_Boom._

The sound of a distant explosion. I turned, listening. Then . . .

_Boom. Boom-boom. BOOM._

"Orbital bombardment," said Shepard. "Relatively small ordnance. Not city-busters."

"Perhaps the _valdarii_ don't intend to destroy Mindoir," I suggested. "If they can defeat the planetary defenses and land troops . . ."

"They plan to _occupy_ us?" demanded Elias. "How? If no one can even talk to them?"

"No sense trying to speculate," said Shepard. "Kamala, you ready?"

_Snap-click._ The Spectre's assault rifle unfolded into her hands. "Ready."

"Then let's go. We need to find a landing zone _Normandy_ can use to extract Liara and the rest of the asari."

Our group moved out of the vault, through the building once more, out onto the street.

At least most of the civilians had gotten off the streets, leaving them strangely empty. But thunder rolled down from the sky, almost a constant sound, and we could all see flashes of light on the horizon. The _valdarii_ were indeed sparing New Paris, but the defense installations outside the capital received a terrible barrage of explosives.

"Shepard, look!" I pointed up into the sky.

Great dark shapes moved there, sliding down from the heavens, approaching New Paris slowly but inexorably. Starships.

"That's torn it," growled Shepard. "Landing ships. They'll have thousands of troops on the ground within a few minutes."

_{Liara?}_

A message coming through my _daimon_. I stopped, holding up a hand to ask for a moment's quiet.

_{I'm here, in New Paris.}_

_{Thank the Goddess. This is Vara. We're less than ten minutes out, but it looks as if the planet is completely invested. Tania thinks we can get in long enough to extract you, but it's going to be very tight. We need a landing zone.}_

_{We're just outside a place called the Universal House of Justice. Do you have it on your maps?}_

_{Yes, I see it.} _A moment's pause, while Vara and Tania consulted. _{There's an open space about half a kilometer from you. The map labels it as Richelieu Park.}_

"Richelieu Park?" I asked the others.

"That way," said Elias, pointing decisively. "It's not far."

_{We're on our way. There are quite a few of us. We're evacuating the asari consulate as well.}_

A sense of unease came through the link, but Vara didn't hesitate. _{Understood. Hurry, love.}_

I flinched inwardly at that last comment, suddenly dreading the complication that loomed ahead of me, but my voice remained steady. "They're coming. Less than ten minutes."

Shepard nodded. "Let's move."

We hurried, shaking out into some semblance of a military formation: Shepard and Kamala on point, two of the consul's asari with commando training taking up the rear, the Clarkes and T'Marr herself in the well-protected center. I stayed close to Shepard, wondering whether we would remember our old tactical partnership well enough to survive in combat.

I didn't have to wonder for long. I didn't see any ships land nearby, but the _valdarii_ must have been incredibly quick to deploy. Suddenly, from up a cross street to our right, we fell under attack from a heavy squad of the creatures. Shepard shouted for everyone to _take cover_, and we immediately found ourselves fighting for our lives.

I had never encountered _valdarii_ in person before, had only seen vids of corpses under autopsy. The living creatures seemed very strange on first glance, like enormous arachnids scuttling along, but then one saw it was an illusion. They didn't truly resemble arachnids, but something about their six-limbed structure and their jerky movements gave that impression.

These _valdarii_ were the ones we came to call _runners._ They had an upright posture, like tall, slender humans or asari, moving at great speed on two strong legs. The other two pairs of limbs both served to carry equipment, especially a heavy rifle-like weapon in the lower arms. Their movements seemed very well coordinated. I saw one runner fire its rifle with careful accuracy, even while it hurled a grenade with one of its upper hands.

I took cover and put up my best tactical barrier. T'Marr was a skilled adept, and one or two of her asari had enough skill to synchronize with me as well. Together we strengthened the barrier and provided our entire party with cover. Not a moment too soon. The _valdarii_ fanned out the moment they saw us, laying a hail of gunfire down in our direction.

_This is hardly fair. They outnumber our combat effectives by at least four to one. Eight to one if you count hands._

Most of our party were only lightly armed and had no military training, best advised to keep their heads down and fire only at the very best targets of opportunity. Kamala proved far more effective, firing her rifle in careful three-round bursts, interspersed with powerful overload charges to take down the enemy's kinetic barriers. T'Marr and I concentrated on keeping our biotic barrier up, and sending a steady stream of warps and throws to disrupt the enemy's formation.

Then Shepard brought down the lightning.

That's what it looked like. Not a simple high-speed bullet, not even the kind of energy beam typical of Prothean weapons. It looked like a bar of blue-white light, flashing out with incredible accuracy, _crack-crack-crack_ and three of the _valdarii_ went down. The rest took a sudden interest in finding the best cover they could manage.

"We can't let them pin us down," he shouted. "Kamala, grenades, eleven o'clock!"

The Spectre flung a barrage of lift grenades. _Thump-thump-thump_, and two incautious runners went flying.

Shepard struck a pose, shimmered for a moment, and then_ vanished_. An instant later, a tremendous _nova_ detonation occurred in the middle of the _valdarii_ line. Dead and stunned aliens fell backward from the epicenter. There was the silver statue, firing in all directions from the sudden gap it had opened, every shot still striking home.

_Well, that answers the question of whether this version of Shepard is a biotic._

I felt it then, the moment when the enemy's will faltered. I glanced across the enemy line, saw a weak point, and put down a large _singularity_ just there.

I was proud of T'Marr. Without being prompted, she immediately fired her best warp into the center of the vortex.

_BOOM._

The last few aliens turned and ran.

"Status?" snapped Shepard.

One of T'Marr's people was dead, another badly hurt but responding to medi-gel. Elias Clarke had taken cuts to his face when a ricochet kicked up a shard of stone, but he refused treatment, a determined light in his eyes. Shepard got us moving again, worried that the _valdarii_ would be back with reinforcements.

_Normandy_ announced itself with a string of explosions just as we entered Richelieu Park, Vara apparently seeing another detachment of _valdarii_ too close to the landing zone. We emerged from a narrow belt of trees out onto a grassy field, to find the ship looming close above us, the cargo hatch already opening wide.

Kamala leaped up onto the hatch first, turning to provide top cover. Shepard and I waved the consul and her people aboard.

That left the two of us alone. I turned and looked up at him, the terror of combat suddenly replaced with another wave of emotions, a feeling I was reluctant to name.

_He's going to stay. He's going to send me away. Just like over Alchera. Just like that last terrible day on Earth. I'll never see him again._

"Shepard!"

"Go on, Liara," he said, his face grim, his eyes dark under his brows. "You have to get out of here. Tell the galaxy what's happening. Get them to _do something_."

"No! No, I . . ."

_Goddess what do I do I love Vara she's the other half of my soul but I can't lose Shepard again. Not again. Not after I just found him after so long._

"Liara, these people need me. They're going to need someone who knows how to fight an enemy like this. Someone who can rally them if there's going to be a long resistance."

"I can do that," said Elias.

Shepard stared at him.

"I may not have your experience with war, Shepard, but I know Mindoir, and I know her people. I can do it." Elias stood tall, the blood on his cheek forgotten, his face solid and determined. "Besides, Marie may not have heard much of what you've told her, but Jeanne and I have been listening. You're right. The Way has gone down the wrong path. Someone needs to set things right."

"Elias, this is going to be a terrible time. Are you sure about this?"

"I'm sure. Go on. This is going to be a lot bigger than just Mindoir. Your place is out there in the galaxy, fighting to save _everyone,_ the way you've done so many times before." Suddenly Elias turned and _smiled_ at me, a gentle and warm thing that caused my heart to skip a beat. "I suspect, one way or another, your place is with Dr. T'Soni too."

"_Liara! We have to go __**now**__!"_ Vara, shouting from _Normandy_'s cargo bay.

"All right, Elias." Shepard grasped the other man's hand firmly. "Be careful and stay alive. I'll be back, and if history is any guide, I just might bring half the galaxy with me."

He turned and took me by the arm. We ran.

The moment we stood on the cargo hatch, it began to close, _Normandy_ already rising into the sky. I looked around and saw the last of the consulate staff being escorted to the lifts and the upper decks. Vara walked over to us, giving Kamala a moment's glance, then staring curiously at the silver statue next to me.

"Thank the Goddess you're safe, Liara. Who is this?"

Apparently Shepard had developed a sense of drama, in his years on Mindoir. Before I could say anything, he dropped the mirror finish over his face.

"Hello, Vara. It's good to see you again."

My bondmate's eyes went so wide, I thought for a moment she was about to faint.


	13. War Council

_**5 November 2580, Interstellar Space**_

About two hours after we escaped from Mindoir, we gathered in _Normandy_'s conference room. Tension ran high in the air, even before I called the meeting to order. Too much bad news coming all at once, too many surprises in the last few hours . . . and then there was the miracle sitting across the table from me.

_Shepard_.

Everyone recognized him. Everyone felt very aware of the sheer _history_ that he represented. Everyone, even Tekanta the geth, instinctively treated him with grave respect.

Meanwhile, almost everyone was stealing furtive glances at my end of the table, trying to see how I was taking this sudden development.

Also, how Vara was taking it.

She had said hardly a word to me since Shepard came on board.

I glanced around the table. Vara sat to my immediate right, then Miranda, Kalan and Tekanta, Shepard, Kamala, Tania Kethys as my new senior acolyte, and then Consul T'Marr to my immediate left. Nine of us to try to decide the fate of the galaxy.

"The situation is very grave," I began. "Vara?"

"The _valdarii_ are apparently undertaking a major offensive against Confederation space," said my bondmate, her voice cool and efficient. "The assault on Mindoir is only one prong of the attack. _Valdarii_ fleets have also invested Caleston, Arvuna, Asteria, and Horizon. Planetary defenses are being dismantled and troops landed in large numbers on all five worlds."

"Four human colonies, one asari," said T'Marr. "The Republics have called the Grand Assembly into session to discuss emergency measures, but it may take some time before they reach a decision. What response have we seen from the Alliance?"

"Confused and uncertain," said Vara. "The humans appear to have been no better prepared for this invasion than we were."

"Do we have any idea _why_ the _valdarii_ have stepped up their aggression right now?"

"I have some ideas about that," said Shepard, "but first I think Vara has a piece of information that might be relevant."

My bondmate nodded. "Our sources on the Citadel have intercepted a message, sent about an hour ago to the Yao administration. Apparently from the _valdarii."_

"I thought they didn't communicate with outsiders!" said Kamala.

"They didn't launch full-scale invasions of planets before today either," said Vara. "In any case, it's not a _valdarii_ that delivered the message. Here."

She touched controls, and the main viewscreen darkened. An image appeared: a male human, very dark-skinned, with dark brown eyes and close-cropped black hair. He spoke facing out of the image, but at once I could tell there was something terribly wrong with him. His face seemed utterly blank, his voice flat and expressionless, as if he sleepwalked his way through the speech. Or as if his mind was not his own.

"_. . . speaking on behalf of the Old Ones. You are warned. The Old Ones have returned to claim what is theirs: this galaxy, every star and every world in it, down to the last grain of dust. You are directed to prepare for life under their hegemony. Resistance constitutes a waste of effort. It will be punished. Surrender is preferable. Life will improve under the hegemony of the Old Ones. Poverty, disease, and even death will be abolished. Every living being, organic or synthetic, will receive the guidance necessary to attain its greatest possible potential. In the end, all will share in transcendence."_ The human paused for several seconds, his face and eyes empty of affect, and then he began to speak again. _"This is the human designated David Ekwensi, speaking on behalf of the Old Ones . . ."_

Vara cut the transmission off with a vicious _snap_. "In case you aren't up on your human colonial affairs, David Ekwensi was the First Executive of the Caleston colony. Until this morning."

"Who are these _Old Ones?"_ inquired T'Marr.

All at once, every pair of eyes turned to Shepard. Under other circumstances, I might have laughed.

"I'm not sure," he said, lacing his fingers together on the table. "I may be an emissary of the Ascended Intelligence, but I don't know everything that's going on."

"Why don't you tell us what you _do_ know?" I suggested. "Maybe we can help you make sense of it."

"All right."

He stood at his end of the table, gathering all eyes, and then began to tell one of the most remarkable stories in history.

* * *

_My name is William Allen Shepard. I am the third human to carry that name, along with a specific set of memories and personality._

_The first and original Shepard was a natural-born human, an Alliance soldier who became the first human Spectre. He fought against the Reaper __**Sovereign**__, delaying the Reaper invasion by almost three years. He was killed by the Collectors over Alchera almost four hundred years ago._

_When the first Shepard died, Liara recovered his physical remains. She already carried his memories within her mind. She took both to the rogue organization Cerberus, which used them to build a biological construct with the original Shepard's memories and personality. That construct became the second Shepard. He fought a war against the Collectors, and later led the galaxy against the Reapers themselves. He died on the Crucible at the climax of the Battle of Earth._

_What no one knew for a long time – aside from Liara and Vara – is that as the second Shepard died, the Crucible __**uploaded**__ him. His genome, his physical structure, his memories, morals, and personality, all of those things provided a framework for the ascension of the Intelligence that commanded the Reapers. In a sense, the Intelligence took on a new form, a human form, on the basis of Shepard's mind. That's why the Intelligence and the Reapers have become non-hostile, withdrawing to watch over the galaxy and all its people from afar._

_For almost four centuries, the Intelligence has kept its distance, refusing to intervene in events, permitting all of you to find your own destinies._

_In a blurry sort of way, I remember __**being**__ the Intelligence. Its mind is vast and powerful, beyond our ability to comprehend. Maybe Tekanta could dimly understand it, on the basis of its experience with the geth consensus. None of the rest of us have any hope of grasping the reality. In this human form, I'm crippled just like the rest of you. I can't even begin to describe what it was like. I can't remember most of it._

_One day a little over fifteen years ago, I woke up on a grassy hillside on Mindoir, my armor and my weapons beside me, with no idea how I came to be there._

_Like the second Shepard, I'm a biological construct based on the original's genome and physical structure. On the other hand, the technology used to create __**me**__ must have been millions of years more advanced than anything available to Cerberus. I'm full of cybernetics and nanotechnology, completely integrated with my biological systems, a synthesis of organic and synthetic life. I'm not sure what the limits of my capabilities are. I suspect those limits are going to be tested in the days to come._

_I don't know everything about the situation the galaxy is in. The Intelligence didn't give me that information. In fact, I suspect the Intelligence may be as much in the dark about some things as we are. It's very powerful, but it doesn't work on the same scale we do, and it has trouble really seeing things on our level. I'm not in contact with the Intelligence anyway. I haven't been since I arrived on Mindoir._

_Here is what I do know. There is an Adversary out there, another entity that watches the galaxy and sometimes intervenes. It's not the Leviathans. It has nothing to do with the Reapers or the Intelligence. It's something else. The Intelligence has seen evidence of its existence for many millions of years, but if it knows what the Adversary is or what it wants, it didn't see fit to share that knowledge with me._

_For a long time, the Adversary stayed quiet. Thousands of extinction cycles. The Intelligence could almost forget it was out there, for millions of years at a time. Now the Adversary is active, more active than the Intelligence has ever seen it. It's attacking the galaxy. It may be preparing to attack the Intelligence itself._

_The Adversary is behind the __**valdarii**_._ It may have something to do with these "Old Ones" the __**valdarii**__ mentioned. Since the __**valdarii**__ seem to be associated with the aging stars, I have to guess it's involved with that phenomenon too. It's also behind some of what's been happening in Citadel space. It can influence organic minds, quietly, subtly, adjusting attitudes and emotional balance. It can encourage people to turn inward, mistrust each other, pursue their own selfish impulses instead of working together. Liara conjectured that it's playing us off against the __**valdarii**__, for some reason of its own. I think that's a good guess._

_I'm not sure what the Intelligence is planning to do to defend itself, to defend all of us. I know the Reapers have been seen in the galaxy again. Maybe they have a job to do on behalf of the Intelligence. I don't know. I wasn't briefed on that._

_I was given a different job. To come down to this level, where humans and asari and all the others operate. To warn people. To gather allies. To pull the galaxy together, figure out what has to be done, and then go do that. Whatever the cost._

_Again._

_The Intelligence must think we have a role to play. I wish I could tell you more about what that role is._

_I think I was sent to Mindoir because the Way would give me a head start. I could prove I was Shepard come back to life, and they would listen to me without worrying too much about whether I was a Reaper trap of some kind. That hasn't worked out as well as I might have hoped. Still, working from behind the scenes, I've been able to help Mindoir and some of the colonies build up their independence, build up their defenses._

_Part of that is the nanotechnology I carry around in my body. Liara, you heard from the Clarkes about the Way's ritual of sharing blood. I started that. I donated some of my blood and the nanotech in it, so that others could take a limited part in the synthesis. There's a very good reason for that, and it has nothing to do with religious ritual, although the Way did roll it into their beliefs along with everything else I brought them._

_The nanotech in my blood makes me immune to the Adversary's influence. Whatever mechanism it uses to control people, the Intelligence's technology counteracts it, helps keep my mind my own. If anyone else accepts the nanotech, it will set up defenses in their bodies and brains, preventing the Adversary from gaining a foothold. Most of the members of the Way have acquired that immunity by now._

_I would really recommend that everyone here consider borrowing a bit of my blood. Or maybe we can study the nanotech, find a more efficient and less . . . creepy way to share the immunity._

_Aside from that, we need to gather a team. Gather more information, figure out what the Adversary is and what it's up to. Figure out how to oppose it. Rally the peoples of the galaxy against it. The same kind of thing Liara and I did during the Reaper War._

_When the Intelligence sent me to Mindoir, I didn't have much sense of urgency. The Intelligence thinks on time-scales of millions of years, and it could easily have decided to take action now to head off a threat that far in the future. Now I think that may have been a mistake. Something has encouraged the Adversary to step up its game. It's decided that now is the time to move._

_If we don't find a way to respond, then all of us may be in for whatever happened to David Ekwensi. Or something worse._

* * *

Shepard fell silent, and all of us around the table took a few moments to assimilate what he had said.

Then Vara stirred. "With all due respect, Shepard, you're asking us to take a lot on faith."

"I know." He took a deep breath. "Vara, I know what you're thinking but are too polite to say. _How do we know this isn't all some scheme of the Reapers?"_

"The thought had occurred to me," she admitted.

"It's a possibility. I could be a walking time-bomb of some kind, designed to look and sound like Shepard to win your trust. I could even be perfectly sincere and that would still be true.

"The best argument I have against that idea is _why bother?_ If the Reapers had become hostile again, they wouldn't need to mess around with building a Shepard-pawn to take you off guard. They would just sweep in from dark space and start harvesting everybody. The galaxy has made some progress since the war, but not nearly enough to beat the Reapers at their own game. After all, they only abandoned the extinction cycle because, in effect, my predecessor _persuaded_ them to."

"You make a good point." Vara glanced around the table, her gaze finally settling on me. "Liara, if you are wise, you will do two things."

"I'm listening," I told her, trying to project all the old love and respect I held for her.

"Shepard outlines a reasonable program, but I don't think he should be in charge of carrying it out. He's been gone too long, and he doesn't have your _political_ experience."

We heard a small chuckle from the far end of the table. "No argument from me," said Shepard. "This isn't my _Normandy_."

"Second . . . I think we should be very careful before accepting any of this man's _blood_." Vara peered down the table at him. "He _claims_ that it will make us immune to this Adversary's influence. He may even believe that. But by his own admission, the ones who have already accepted it are the members of the Way. That doesn't strike me as a great recommendation."

Kamala bristled slightly. "Now see here . . ."

Shepard rested a gentle hand on her forearm. "No, Kamala, from her perspective she's right. Her only experience with the Way involves her bondmate being kidnapped and held against her will for several days."

The Spectre had the grace to look mildly ashamed.

"At some point we're going to have to convince a _lot_ of people to accept the synthesis," Shepard continued. "That's not going to be easy. By all means, let's demonstrate by example that it's worth doing."

Vara nodded in chilly satisfaction. "I have no more reservations."

"All right," I said, looking around the table, feeling responsibility like a heavy weight on my shoulders. "If Shepard is not going to command our effort, who will?"

Silence. All eyes rested on me.

"There's no one else, Liara," said Shepard gently.

I turned to Consul T'Marr. "Do you concur?"

She gave us a firm nod. "I do, and I'm confident that the Asari Republics will also accept your leadership in this matter."

"That may be important," I said. "This is in part a political problem. I'm not confident that the Yao administration will be of much help, especially if critical officials are already under this Adversary's influence . . . which implies that we may need to replace President Yao."

"A vote of no confidence?" suggested Vara.

"If we can get one. We should be able to get the asari and the krogan on board almost immediately, but that won't be enough. We need a solid majority in Parliament." I thought furiously for a few moments. "I think I see how to proceed. ARGOS?"

"_Yes, Doctor?"_

"Lay in a course for Thessia. Best possible speed."

"_At once, Doctor."_

"Tania, _Normandy_ is on alert until further notice. We can't waste time taking the long way around through the relay network to avoid _valdarii_ activity. If we run into one of their fleets, we're just going to have to punch through."

My acolyte gave me a confident smile, so much like Nerylla's that my heart skipped a beat. "All they will see is our drive flare as we pass, be sure of it."

"Good. Shepard, you've already met Miranda."

He nodded, a gleam of amusement in his eye at the name.

"I want you to report to the medical bay, where she will give you a _thorough_ examination. I think we may be able to tell you more about your internal structure than the Way's doctors and scientists."

"Aye-aye," he said, without a trace of irony.

"Meanwhile, Kalan, I want you, Tekanta, and Iole to examine Shepard's gear. I want to know as much as possible about the Intelligence's technology. The sooner we can prove there are no hidden traps in any of it, the sooner we will be able to convince others to join the cause."

The quarian nodded, a trace of excitement showing at a new technical challenge.

_Am I missing anything?_

_Probably. If it's important I'll think of it later._

"If there are no other issues, _dismissed."_

* * *

I finally found time to retire to my quarters late in the ship's day, looking forward to a short sleep period before we arrived at Thessia.

Vara was there before me, already bathed and changed into a light silk tunic, sitting on the bed and reading files on her omni-tool. She glanced up as I appeared, her face solemn.

_This may be a difficult evening_.

I decided to pretend nothing had changed between us. I stripped down, took a hot shower, and padded out of the refresher cubicle wearing nothing but a towel. I crossed to the bed and lay down in my usual place beside her. Then I waited.

"Well," she said at last.

"I'm sorry," I told her. "It was cruel of Shepard to ambush you like that. I should have told you about him the moment we made contact."

Her lips quirked, not quite forming a smile. "I survived the experience. Barely. Goddess, Liara, to see him again after all these years . . ."

"I know."

Silence.

"He still loves you," she said at last. "He could barely keep his eyes away from you the whole time we were meeting."

I sighed. "I know."

Silence again.

"I could . . ." she ventured.

"_Absolutely not,"_ I told her. I shifted on the bed, to pull her into an embrace with one arm and twine a leg between hers. "Vara T'Rathis, you have been my best and most loyal friend, my lover, and my bondmate for almost four hundred years. I am not _about_ to set that aside just because Shepard has somehow returned."

She resisted the embrace for just an instant, her body stiff and unyielding, but then she turned off her omni-tool and relaxed. "I suppose I knew that, but it still helps to hear you say it."

I craned my neck slightly, and planted a warm, lingering kiss on her lips.

"Even though I can tell you still love _him_," she said, once she could speak again.

"I'm not sure how I feel about him," I told her. "I've never forgotten him. I've missed him. Now that he's back, it would be very easy to fall in love with him all over again. On the other hand, I am _not happy_ that it took so long for the Intelligence to send him back, and that he went for _fifteen years_ without contacting me."

"You understand why he did that. He didn't want to come between us."

I looked into her silver eyes. "He is _not_ going to come between us."

"Oh?" Those eyes became smoky, shadowed. "Prove it."

So I made love to her, and it was as pleasurable for both of us as ever, and I opened my mind freely for her examination at our climax. She saw how deep my love for her remained, how determined I was to maintain our bond.

She also saw how hard it would be for me to refuse Shepard, if he ever made a serious attempt to rekindle what we had once had. As we drifted off to sleep in each other's arms, I'm not sure she felt truly reassured.


	14. The Grand Assembly

_**6 November 2580, Nika Starport, Armali/Thessia**_

When Vara and I emerged from the lifts onto the operations deck, the first thing I saw was Shepard's eyes going very wide. It confused me for a moment, and then I remembered.

I had my _very_ formal ensemble on, what Vara sometimes called my "politics armor." A long gown left my shoulders and upper chest bare and exposed my cleavage, but otherwise wrapped my figure closely all the way to my feet. A high-collared cloak fell almost to my ankles behind me, with sleeves running all the way down to my wrists. An elaborate headdress framed my face, and swept back in long horns over my crest. Everything was in silver and white, with cobalt-blue accents.

Aside from the color, the gown must have reminded Shepard very strongly of Benezia.

For that matter, I had changed somewhat as I entered the matron stage of life. My face had thinned out and my figure had grown more generous, both only slightly, but both increasing my resemblance to my mother. Dressed as I was, he could not help but notice.

"You look as if you've seen a ghost," I teased him gently.

"I think maybe I have." He shook his head ruefully. "Took me by surprise for a moment."

"Some things have changed on Thessia, but we asari are still terribly conservative when it comes to fashion."

"You look . . ." He stopped, changed direction with only a moment's hesitation. "It suits you. I didn't think anyone but a Matriarch got to wear a headdress like that."

Vara glanced up at me, smiling with pride. "That's more a matter of custom than of law. If an ordinary asari tried to wear one before her matriarchal transition, without the status to back it up, she would risk public ridicule. Liara hasn't had _that_ problem in a very long time."

_Boom: _the sound of _Normandy_ coming to rest in her docking cradle.

"It's time," I said, and set out for the main airlock. Vara walked by my side, wearing her own formal gown in silver and black. Consul T'Marr followed close behind, then Shepard, Kamala, Miranda, Kalan, three of my security detail, and all of the Mindoir consulate staff. Our procession moved up the ship's main corridor, through the open airlock, and down the long ramp outside.

A small crowd of asari waited in the lounge at the bottom of the ramp. I focused on the two standing in front, ready to meet us first. One was tall, slender and rather elegant, wearing her own formal gown and headdress in black and deep crimson. The other was shorter, wiry and athletic, wearing a much simpler silk gown, no headdress, and a sidearm at her hip.

I stopped at the bottom of the ramp, and then gave the shallow, graceful genuflection that one must employ while wearing the matriarchal headgear. It takes much practice to learn how to bow without having the whole assembly fall off.

The tall asari in dark colors followed suit, her bow just _slightly_ shallower than mine. Her voice sounded cool and musical, a finely tuned instrument that I knew she could employ to considerable effect. "Dr. T'Soni."

"Matriarch. May I present my associates?"

She nodded graciously. I made introductions. The Matriarch's eyes widened slightly when she heard Shepard's name, even more when he stepped forward and made a perfectly elegant bow of his own in asari fashion.

"This is the Matriarch Thekla Valaridé, President-Coadjutor of the Assembly of the Republic of Armali." I smiled slightly, feeling both great pride and a surge of sadness. "And this is her aide, Nerylla T'Rathis . . . my daughter."

I happened to be watching Shepard just then. I saw the moment when he did a double-take at Nerylla, as if seeing her for the first time. Saw a suspicious gleam in his eyes, quickly blinked away, his face setting into a bland mask of polite interest.

The formalities over, Nerylla stepped forward to embrace her mother and (more carefully) me. "Hello, _patēr_. I heard about _theía_ Nerylla. Horrible."

"Yes." I could hear my voice go cold as winter. "There will be a reckoning."

My daughter only nodded in complete agreement.

The Matriarch cleared her throat. "Doctor, I would normally not wish to interfere in a reunion of family, but time is pressing. The Grand Assembly has been told of your imminent arrival. In the past hour, the participation index has surged to rather startling levels."

"How startling?" I asked.

"As of five minutes ago, seventy-six percent," said Nerylla quietly.

"Remarkable. Matriarch, have you had time to consider my proposal?"

"I have." She inclined her head once more. "It has always been a pleasure to work with you, Liara, and I accept."

"Good." I gave her a sharp-edged smile. "Let's go make some noise."

* * *

_**6 November 2580, Assembly Hall, Armali/Thessia**_

Asari democracy has always been a loud, chaotic affair. Even in our earliest civilizations, adult asari met in the _agora_ to vigorously debate the issues of the day, deciding on matters of highest policy by a simple show of hands, or by casting ballots on potsherds. It seems to be our default form of governance, the one we keep returning to no matter how much social or technological change may occur. Like meritocracy among turians, or feudalism among salarians and humans.

Since the development of global telecommunications, the _ekklesia_ has become a virtual thing, most of its members participating from the privacy of their own homes. Even in the smallest city-states, physical meetings of the entire citizenry happen only rarely. Possibly as a side effect, participation has fallen over the centuries, until most everyday policies are debated only by a motivated minority. Most asari regard that as a feature of the system, not a flaw; the right to choose _not_ to participate in politics is recognized as an essential part of our liberties.

The Grand Assembly of the Asari Republics is a specific telecommunications nexus, moderated by sophisticated VIs and expert technicians, reaching every world and outpost where asari live in significant numbers. It is only considered to be in session when at least twenty percent of the _entire _asari population is online and engaged, an event which has only occurred seventeen times in four thousand years. That threshold was passed on the fifth of November, while _Normandy_ fled from Mindoir and the _valdarii_ invasion. By the time we arrived on Thessia, the participation rate had soared. Most of the adult asari in the galaxy, along with many non-asari who held citizenship in the Republics, had logged in to the Assembly.

Of course, just because seventy-six percent (and climbing) of the asari in the galaxy were logged in didn't mean all of them would be watching _me_ when I spoke. Millions of others would be speaking or posting messages at the same time, in a dense array of subforums and message threads. Policy proposals would be raised, tested for coherence and validity, heatedly discussed, amalgamated with other proposals, pushed closer to a vote of the whole. No one speaker, no matter how distinguished, could count on the undivided attention of the entire asari people.

Still. I looked at the statistics after we addressed the Assembly. When I stepped up onto a holographic stage in a darkened room, over _twenty billion_ asari and others had chosen to listen to me.

The stage projected a virtual environment around me, an ancient amphitheater, thousands of notional asari apparently listening. The Assembly VIs would alter the environment, reporting the responses to my address through visual and auditory cues, as if I was speaking in an ancient _agora_. At the moment the audience seemed mostly quiet and attentive.

"I am Liara T'Soni, a citizen of the Republic of Armali," I said calmly.

The system broadcast a file across the Assembly network: proof of my identity, a capsule biography, a long list of titles and honors.

"Several days ago, I left Thessia on a scientific expedition, hoping to verify a disturbing report I had received from the far edge of the galaxy."

I spoke calmly and concisely for several minutes, describing Kalan's discoveries and what we had done to investigate at Solveig. My _daimon_ interfaced with the Assembly system, posting supporting data, from Kalan's initial observations to the paper he and Miranda had just written. The virtual audience remained quiet and solemnly attentive.

"While we flew past Solvieg, we came under attack from a _valdarii_ detachment."

Instrument recordings, cross-references to known _valdarii_ ship designs, a tactical display replaying the entire engagement. Supplementary data from the Illium Defense Force, detailing the _valdarii_ ambush against Kalan's ship in the Tasale system. I heard the first buzz of cross-talk out in the virtual audience, as the Assembly began to examine and discuss the data I had presented.

"We then went to the Citadel, where we presented our results to the Confederation Parliament. I personally met with President Yao. During our discussion, he asked apparently irrelevant questions about my memoir of the Reaper War, published earlier this year. At the time I was puzzled by his interest, but I saw nothing to make me suspicious."

A transcript of my meeting with the President, assembled after the fact from memory, with assistance from my _daimon_. Excerpts from the last few chapters of my memoirs, indicating the material President Yao had inquired about. Now the buzz of talk out in the audience took on a _confused_ tone, as if the Assembly didn't see the relevance of this point.

"Immediately after our meeting, my bondmate and I were attacked on the Presidium. My lead acolyte, Nerylla Essenai, was killed. I barely escaped with my life." I took a deep breath. "I later learned that the assassination attempt was ordered by President Yao."

A lengthy deposition from Kamala Sarabhai, detailing the content of Yao's classified orders, and her actions that saved Vara and me from the assassins.

Out in the Assembly: _pandemonium_.

I had expected as much. In ancient times, I would have had to wait patiently for the tumult to subside, or start shouting for quiet. Now I simply sent a mental command through my _daimon,_ and the Assembly muted its auditory cues so I could keep speaking without distraction. Anyone busy reacting to my last statement would be able to catch up quickly enough.

Besides, my next move was going to provoke a far stronger reaction.

"Spectre Sarabhai and I left the Citadel and took refuge on her homeworld of Mindoir," I said, glossing over such details as sedatives, omega-five enkephalin, and being held against my will. "There I found humans who had information about the current situation not widely available in the rest of the galaxy. In particular, all of these phenomena – the dying stars, the _valdarii_ incursions, and at least some of the trouble in the Confederation – appear to have a common cause."

I used a dramatic pause for a few moments, building tension, and then went on.

"I escaped from Mindoir just as the _valdarii_ invasion began there. With me came a human who is in the best possible position to explain to us what is happening. Members of the Grand Assembly, I now wish to call upon the testimony of William Allen Shepard, standing as an expert witness."

Shepard stepped up onto another holographic stage, a few meters away. Within seconds, his image appeared everywhere in the network, on worlds all across the galaxy.

The Grand Assembly of the Asari Republics went mad.

Shepard hardly noticed. Calm, disciplined, he told his story once again, adding more details, omitting any discussion of his _blood_ for the moment, speaking in flawless _koiné_ without a trace of accent. I had already heard all of it; I caught myself just listening to his voice, trying not to get lost in the beauty of that elegant asari dialect in his smooth baritone.

Keeping busy helped. While Shepard spoke, my _daimon_ and I posted file after file of supporting data. Miranda's medical examination, revealing that our Shepard had the same genome as the original, and also carried a great deal of internal technology far more advanced than anything our civilization could produce. Recordings of the Ekwensi message, and of other messages that had come in from the _valdarii_ in the last few hours. Instrument readings from ships that had sighted the Reapers in deep space.

By the time Shepard finished, the chaos had died down a little. His image remained on the Assembly, but I resumed the active role in the thread.

"I wish to put the following motion on the floor, as a formal proposal.

"_One:_ The Asari Republics, through our representatives in the Parliament of the Citadel Confederation, will immediately begin preparations for a vote of no confidence in the Yao administration.

"_Two:_ The Asari Republics will immediately begin to work with our friends among the other member species of the Confederation, to promote the vote of no confidence and to establish a new coalition government once that vote has succeeded.

"_Three: _the Asari Republics will support that new coalition government, once formed, in an aggressive defense of the Confederation and all its citizens, against the _valdarii_ and any force which may be using them in pursuit of its own goals.

"_Four:_ I nominate Matriarch Thekla Valaridé for the office of _exarkhōn_ of the Asari Republics, to coordinate our actions in pursuit of this proposal, with the understanding that she will stand for election to Parliament and the office of President of the Citadel Confederation at the earliest opportunity.

"Shepard and I will now be available for questions and further discussion for the next two hours."

* * *

It took longer than two hours. It was closer to six, and both of us were utterly exhausted, before Shepard and I could disengage from the Grand Assembly.

The Assembly had mechanisms in place to moderate comments and questions, so we didn't have to respond to _every_ fluff-brained thing an asari might choose to say. On the other hand, if _millions_ of asari all saw the need to ask the same question, that question _would_ rise to our attention.

Some of the questions and comments were expected, and we had prepared for them.

_This is nothing but T'Soni attempting to use the present crisis to force her way back into political power._

"Not remotely true," I said. "Had I wished to return to public life, I could have done so at any time, and I am confident I could have attracted enough votes to credibly compete for any office I wished. I have no need to manufacture or opportunistically use a crisis to do that. Besides, if this was merely a matter of personal ambition, I would not have nominated Matriarch Thekla to take the political lead in this crisis."

_If you are not going to return to politics, what do you intend to do?_

"Many mysteries confront us," I answered. "While Matriarch Thekla coordinates our political response, I intend to use the resources available to me, investigating the situation and providing useful intelligence. I suspect that will mean traveling the galaxy aboard _Normandy_, with my friends and allies to help. Including Shepard." I smiled, projecting dry humor. "After all, there's a great deal of historical precedent for the success of such an approach."

_How can we verify Shepard's claim of being an emissary of this Intelligence?_

"Unfortunately, I don't have evidence to support that claim," said Shepard calmly. "The Intelligence has no desire to coerce anyone into following its dictates, so it's not prepared to work signs and wonders to overcome anyone's doubts. You'll have to freely make up your own minds whether or not to accept my word. But consider this. Even if you don't believe me, or what Liara said in her memoirs, do you have any better explanation for the facts on the ground? Why have the Reapers abandoned the extinction cycle? Why have they not made any hostile moves since then? Why have they kept their distance? How is it that I'm even here to discuss it with you? Those are points that any alternative hypothesis will have to explain, if it's to be taken seriously."

_How do we know T'Soni didn't create this image of Shepard for purposes of her own?_

I smiled. "Actually, I've had the capability to attempt such a thing for a long time. After the war, I associated for many years with Miranda Lawson, former head of the Lazarus Project. Most of the technology involved fell into Alliance hands, and I had access to it. A number of samples of Shepard's genome remained available, even after his death on the Crucible. I still carry all of Shepard's memories, up to the day of the Battle of Earth. Cerberus spent over four billion credits on the project, but I've had access to similar levels of funding for centuries. If I had wished to create a copy of Shepard for myself, I would not have had to wait _nearly_ this long."

_Then why didn't you, if you loved him as much as you claim in your memoirs?_

I kept my face and voice well-disciplined, avoiding the temptation to lose my temper. Politics in the Asari Republics is always a full-contact sport. "It would have been criminally selfish for me to divert such resources to revive one man, when billions were suffering terribly in the aftermath of the war. Also, I knew Shepard well enough to be certain that he would not have wanted me to do it. More than that is _not the business of the public._"

"I concur, for what it's worth. I never expected to return to the galaxy as a living human. I fully approve Liara's decision not to attempt to revive me using Cerberus technology." Shepard folded his arms and _glared_ at the pickup, a gesture that echoed through my centuries-old memories of him. "And in my opinion, that was a very cruel question to ask."

After that, the discussion moved to the details of our proposal. For hours, millions of asari held it up to fierce critique, looking for gaps in our evidence or argument. Shepard and I answered every question we could, presented counter-arguments to every objection. Others did the same in other chambers of the Assembly Hall: Matriarch Thekla, Vara, Miranda, Nerylla, and other asari who had already joined our camp. Kamala, Kalan, and even Tekanta all came forward more than once, to testify to matters within their knowledge and expertise.

Shepard often glanced at me when the focus was not on him, watching to see how I was taking things. I remained calm and serene, using my body language to project confidence. In fact, as time wore on, I became more and more certain that the proposal would pass. The flood of questions and comments became less pointed over time, suggesting that we had convinced many asari. As a few voters began to make early decisions, I saw the _for _vote outnumbering the _against_ vote by almost thirty percent.

* * *

Then, just as I began to feel the need for food, refreshment, and _sleep_, another factor entered the discussion. Someone else pushed her way into prominence, gathering the attention of tens of millions of asari, requesting that she be permitted to address us directly.

Matriarch Falere T'Sarien.

Shepard and I exchanged a startled glance when the name appeared on a screen before us. Both of us recognized it.

Close to the end of the Reaper War, _Normandy_ went to investigate trouble at the _ardat-yakshi_ monastery on the planet Lesuss. We found the monastery overrun by Reaper creatures, which had captured almost all of the inmates in order to transform them into _banshees_. Falere had been the sole survivor of the attack, escaping the monastery with the assistance of the _Normandy_ landing party.

Shepard had been on detached duty at the time, leaving _Normandy_ under Ashley Williams's command for several days. However, he had been fully briefed upon his return . . . and in any case, he and I had both known Falere's _mother_ quite well. The justicar Samara T'Sarien had been an ally and comrade-in-arms throughout the war against the Collectors, and she later led the remnants of her Order in the final battle against the Reapers.

I lost contact with Falere after the war, although I learned much later that she never returned to the monastery. By the time the refuge had been rebuilt, Falere had come to Thessia and spent years working on post-war reconstruction. Having demonstrated that she had her condition well under control, and having worked with great selflessness to help others in need, she earned a rare reprieve from the cloister. Since then she had lived alone on Thessia and Cyone, working as an engineer and architect, apparently reconciled to her condition and the social stigma it carried.

Now her image appeared on the stage with us, an attractive Matriarch in her ninth century, wearing a simple black gown and a minimal headdress. The silver badge of a "reconciled" _ardat-yakshi_ rested on her left breast, but she wore it such ease that one quickly came to ignore it.

"_I wish to make several observations regarding this proposal, and the evidence and arguments in its support."_

Falere's posture, face, and voice all seemed under perfect control, coldly rational perfection that gave nothing away. I began to worry whether she had some reason to hold a grudge against us . . .

"_I agree that Shepard's account is difficult to accept on its face. However, I believe I see evidence of its veracity. Evidence that Shepard and Dr. T'Soni themselves appear to have missed."_

I maintained my discipline. I did _not_ exchange a sudden glance of wild surprise with Shepard.

"_Consider. The __**valdarii**__ have been active for over sixty years. Their influence has spread slowly across the Attican Traverse and the Terminus Systems. Many have speculated that they are operating according to a very careful and long-term plan. Yet in the past few days they have become active in new regions of the galaxy, and they have mounted a full-scale invasion of Citadel space. I find I must ask: what has changed?"_

Falere paused for a moment, letting the tension build with skill I wouldn't have expected from an asari with her background.

"_I submit that the significant change involves Shepard. Only in the last few months has information regarding his predecessor's fate been available to anyone other than Dr. T'Soni and her bondmate. It appears that the __**valdarii**__ are specifically interested in that information._

"_We know that the __**valdarii**__ have access to Confederation secrets, because they had no other way to know where and when to ambush Kalan'Tana nar Qoralis on his way to the Citadel. It seems reasonable to assume that President Yao himself is in league with the barbarians; else he would have no motive to attack Dr. T'Soni and Vara T'Rathis. Yet the President specifically inquired after Shepard's status and his connections with the Ascended Intelligence. He then attempted to kill the only two people with first-hand information on that subject._

"_Finally, the choice of Mindoir as a primary target for the invasion makes little sense. It is a large and populous colony world, but it has little heavy industry, and it is well away from major trade routes. Why would the __**valdarii**__ choose to attack there? Yet if we postulate that they are specifically interested in Shepard, the attack makes sense as an attempt to capture or kill him. Dr. T'Soni's presence may have played a part in their decision as well._

"_On our own, we may not wish to believe that Shepard is the agent of a mysterious Intelligence that commands the Reapers and watches over the galaxy. On the other hand, it appears likely that the __**valdarii**__ believe it, and are planning their strategy on the basis of that belief. That alone seems reason enough to take the idea seriously._

"_It seems remotely possible that Dr. T'Soni and her associates could have fabricated the narrative they have presented to this Assembly . . . although from all I know of her character, it seems unlikely. Yet that narrative is too consistent, and it is corroborated by too many pieces of evidence that Dr. T'Soni could not possibly have fabricated._

"_In my opinion, this Assembly would be deeply foolish to disbelieve her account or discount her proposal. We would do well to remember the last time the asari people ignored her warnings and advice. We were fortunate on that occasion to avoid extinction."_

* * *

Fifteen minutes later, Shepard and I could finally leave the holographic stage. The moment the door closed behind us, and there was no chance that the public would see, I collapsed against the nearest wall and closed my eyes with a soft groan.

Shepard chuckled, putting his back to the opposite wall and folding his arms. "No argument from me. Is asari political debate always this physically demanding?"

"Sometimes. The disadvantage of participatory democracy on such a large scale is that it can take _forever_ for everyone to have her say. Most asari politicians work in teams, so they can keep on task however long the debate requires."

"Do you think Matriarch Thekla can take it from here?" he asked quietly.

"She's a very experienced political operative," I said. "Now that the discussion has moved on from the two of us, she should do very well."

"She has your daughter to help." He watched me for a long moment, a wistful expression on his face. "That's a very impressive young lady. Very sharp."

I smiled. "She had a talent for practical psychology long before she went to study political science at the university. She takes after my side of the family in that respect . . . she reminds me of Benezia at times. I suspect she has quite a career ahead of her in the Assembly."

"Is she your only child?"

"No." I watched him closely, but if he had motives other than friendly interest, he hid them well. "She's our younger daughter. Aspasia is the elder. She's more like her mother. Tough. Determined. Life in the military suits her. She's in the Confederation Navy, in line for a command. Assuming her family connections don't ruin that for her."

"I understand the Navy stays out of politics as much as it can," he said gently. "Her superiors shouldn't hold any of this against her."

"Unless Yao decides to be vindictive. Well, the sooner we can push him out of office, the less likely that he'll get the chance to hurt Aspasia . . . and the sooner we'll be able to concentrate on the real enemy."

Footsteps in the corridor. I turned my head and saw Vara and Nerylla approaching us.

"That went very well," said my bondmate. "I don't think it will require the full three days before we know the proposal has been approved."

"The early returns look very good," Nerylla agreed. "I think Matriarch Falere convinced many people."

"I'll have to send her a message of thanks," I murmured. "Goddess, I haven't spoken to her in centuries. I wonder what drove her to come forward now?"

Shepard smiled. "I think I can guess. You and Vara were both on the mission that saved her life. Not to mention that Ash saved her mother from an honorable suicide at the same time."

"I don't care about her motives," said Vara, watching Shepard closely. "Her _reasoning_ was very solid. Assuming you're right about some _Adversary_ being behind the _valdarii_ . . . I think it's concerned about _you_. About something _you_ might do to ruin its plans."

"Hmm. I wish I knew what that might be." He shrugged. "I'm just a messenger. I've spent a lot of time grumbling at my higher self, wondering why it sent me out here with so little information."

To my astonishment, Vara reached out and touched his arm, a comforting gesture. "Don't worry. All of us working together . . . we'll figure this out. We survived the Reapers, we can survive this."

Shepard glanced at me, and for a moment I could read his thoughts as clearly as if he had spoken aloud.

_We didn't all survive the Reapers._

I decided to provide a distraction. "Come on. If we're done with politics for the moment, I think we could all use a rest and a good meal. Let's get a table at one of Armali's finest establishments and indulge ourselves without shame. My treat."

Shepard grinned at me. "Do we have to vote on that, or can we assume the proposal passes by acclamation?"

Vara laughed. "Well. We asari don't vote on _everything."_


	15. Hour of the Wolf

_**7 November 2580, T'Soni Lineage Estates, Armali/Thessia**_

Once again, an alarm signal flashed to our _daimones_ well after midnight. Once again, Vara was up and checking the status report before I quite finished grumbling awake.

"This is becoming tiresome," I observed. "At least it isn't Kalan slipping across the perimeter this time, since he's already here."

Vara turned and peered at me in the darkness of our room. "It's not Kalan. Not even an intruder, really. Shepard is gone."

I felt a sudden chill, an instant of panic. I covered it by rising out of the bed and stalking across the room to examine the console for myself. "What do you mean, _gone?"_

Sometime between the last two security sweeps, a period of about twenty minutes, Shepard had vanished from his guest suite. An aircar was also missing from the hangar.

I opened a channel to Tania through my _daimon._

_{How could the most important human in the galaxy simply vanish into thin air while in our care?}_

_{I'm not sure, __**despoina**__. Unless he has a bleeding-edge cyberwarfare suite and the best tactical cloak I've ever heard about.}_

_{Given the Reaper tech he carries around inside him, he probably __**does**__ have those things. Which is not to excuse you, __**therapōn**__. Find out where he went!}_

_{Of course, __**despoina**__. My profoundest apologies for my failure.}_

I cursed venomously and went to the wardrobe to start pulling on my casual ensemble. Including kinetic barriers and a sidearm.

"Where are you going?" asked Vara quietly.

"To find him."

"I'm not sure that's a good idea."

"I'm not sure either, but I think I need to do it anyway." I turned and looked at her. "Vara, unless centuries as part of the Ascended Intelligence have changed him beyond recognition, that man has to be in a _terrible_ mind-space right now . . . and we're responsible."

She made a small sound of protest.

"You know it's the truth," I said quietly.

"Yes. I suppose it is." She took a deep breath, released it slowly. "I'll come too."

"No. Vara . . . I think you may be the _last_ asari he is going to want to see right now."

"I'll stay back with the security detail," she said, "and you _are_ going to take a security detail."

"Done. Get dressed."

* * *

_**7 November 2580, Eurotas District, Armali/Thessia**_

The missing aircar turned up in downtown Armali, not far from the river, in a district known for culture and entertainment. Shepard was not in it. Some intuition told me he had landed and then proceeded on foot, looking for some distraction. We split up into three groups of two, and began to search.

After about an hour, Tania and I found him, sitting alone at a dark table in a cabaret down by the river. It didn't _look_ like him at first glance. Apparently whatever he used as a tactical cloak could also alter his features and appearance. He wore nondescript clothing that I hadn't seen before, breaking up the outline of his form. Still, the moment I saw him I knew who it was. He hadn't bothered to change his body language, the traces of military discipline in his carriage, the subtle cues that had come to say _Shepard_ to me centuries before.

I had Tania call Vara and the others, told them to assemble on the street outside, and went in alone.

He noticed me crossing the floor, of course, but he didn't visibly react until I was almost standing by his table. I took him in at a glance: posture and expression grimly neutral; half-empty tumbler of whiskey by his elbow; fixed stare up onto the stage, where a trio of athletic asari maidens performed a mildly erotic dance.

"Hello, Liara," he said at last, not looking at me. At least his voice remained the same.

"May I join you?"

"Can't stop you," he said, and I could hear the smallest trace of bitterness in it.

"Of course you can," I told him. "If you don't want company I'll leave. I hope you won't object to the security detail I leave behind me. Not even on Thessia is it safe for any of us to be alone right now."

He sighed deeply and shook his head, but he also deactivated the cloak so that I could see him properly. "You're right, of course. You usually are. Sure, sit down."

I slid in across the table from him, watching him, but careful not to touch him. Then I concentrated on simply _being with_ him, projecting calm patience, ready to listen but not trying to press.

He glanced away from the dancers, took a sip of his whiskey, and watched me for a moment from under his brows. "You're doing it again."

"What am I doing?"

"Using your body language to communicate without saying a word. You've gotten very good at it."

"It comes with being asari, and then getting many years of practice," I said. "It's useful in diplomacy and politics."

His face twitched slightly, as if firmly suppressing an expression. "You would certainly know about _that_. While I existed as a part of the Intelligence . . . I suppose you could say I _heard_ about you once in a while. A lot of the details never rose to its attention, though, and they never got passed along to me. I had a few surprises in store when I arrived on Mindoir."

I sat quietly, waiting.

"_President Liara T'Soni._ You certainly made it to the top of things, before you even reached the matron stage at that. I always knew you would end up as a mover and shaker."

"It was my duty," I said quietly. "I felt an obligation to all the people we lost in the war."

"Including one William Allen Shepard," he said.

"Yes. _Especially_ him."

Silence again, for a long time. He turned back to watch the dancers, a different group this time, moving to a slower, more languorous beat.

"T'Soni, I find I have a confession to make," he said at last, not looking at me.

"I'm listening."

"I told you that I spent all that time on Mindoir without contacting you, because I knew you had made a life for yourself without me, and I didn't want to interfere with that." He took a long sip of his whiskey, draining the glass, and waved to the nearest waitress for another. "That . . . was not the entire truth."

I waited.

"As soon as I got established, I spent weeks surfing the extranet to learn the _details_ of everything that had happened since . . . well, let's not mince words. Since I _died_ on the Crucible." He paused again, turning inward, no longer even watching the maidens on the stage. "One of the first things I did was to look you up. I thought I needed to know. I started reading the codex entries, the biographies, but within a couple of hours I stopped. I set it all aside, and then I spent the next fifteen years doing my best not to think about you at all."

"Was it that painful?" I asked gently.

"You could say that." He sighed. "Don't get me wrong, Liara. Before I died, I told you that if I didn't survive the war, I wanted you to move on and build a life for yourself. When I spoke to you that last time aboard _Harbinger,_ I said the same thing. I made you _promise_. I meant every word of it. I still do. I cannot _begin_ to tell you how proud I am of you, knowing that you've been so happy and productive for so long."

"I understand," I told him, suddenly unable to meet his gaze. "I've never doubted the sincerity of your love for me, Shepard."

"Sure. Here I sit, a _paragon of humanity_, as someone once called me in a book. A shining example of compassion and selflessness." His face twisted suddenly, his eyes falling almost shut, the muscles tensing into an expression more bitter than I had ever seen there before. "What a load of _shit._"

I understood then. Throwing caution to the winds, I leaned forward and put both hands on his forearm, feeling the breaking tension in the corded muscles. "Shepard," I breathed, and held on.

Eventually the crisis passed. His shoulders slumped, the tension in his arms relaxed, and he rather shakily picked up his drink for another sip.

"Sorry," he mumbled. "Damn. The worst of it is, I can't even get _drunk_ anymore. Whatever the Intelligence gave me, it's even better than the filters Cerberus built into my last liver. I metabolize the alcohol so quickly it never has a chance to reach my brain."

"Shepard, you have _nothing_ to be sorry about." I squeezed his forearm. "The Way may be foolish enough to think of you as a supernatural being, but I've always known better. You have a right to grieve all the things you've lost. To feel resentment."

"No, Liara. Not resentment. Never that." He patted one of my hands, looked up into my eyes again. "I suppose _grief_ sounds about right. I don't have a home anywhere, not on Mindoir, not on Earth, not here. Almost everyone I once knew is long dead. My career is gone, my command is gone, and the very governments I once served have changed almost beyond recognition."

"Then there's me," I whispered.

"Yeah. I've lost the woman I loved more than anything in the galaxy. She's gone on to success after success, but I wasn't there to help her, or share in any of it. She's even had the children I once hoped for, and they appear to be wonderful people, but they have nothing to do with me." He chuckled, a grating sound with little humor. "I suppose you could say I'm mourning for _myself_."

"Oh Shepard." I bowed my head, closed my eyes, and for a moment there was nothing but the feel of his skin under my fingers. Tears welled up in my eyes. "I'm so sorry."

"Not your fault." He shifted, and I felt his other hand under my cheek, gently tipping my face up again. "It would have been worse, if you had lived like a hermit all these years."

"Maybe this was a bad idea," I said slowly, blinking my vision clear. "Calling you away from Mindoir, bringing you out here for all the galaxy to see, suggesting that you and I should work together again. All I could think of at the time was that I didn't want to lose you _again_. But it was monstrously unfair to you."

"No, you were right. I can do more good out here than I could stuck on Mindoir. I can already see that I'll fit in well with the team you're starting to assemble." His lips quirked, forming the ghost of his old smile. "Although it would have been helpful if my higher self had built this model with a vocation for celibacy."

I scoffed. "Then you wouldn't have been Shepard."

"I suppose not."

He took a sip of his whiskey, setting the tumbler back down with a decisive _thunk_. I watched his face closely, and felt some assurance. He was finding his emotional balance again, shouldering his burdens as he had done so many times before. I felt a surge of admiration, quickly suppressed, for his strength of will.

"I'm almost afraid to ask this," I ventured, "but why haven't you found someone else?"

"Hmm. All those years on Mindoir, you mean?"

"I'm sure there must have been _someone_."

"Oh, there were possibilities. Too many of them." He looked away, his eyes shadowed. "For example, I've known Kamala since she was fourteen years old, all eyes and elbows and hero worship. She joined the Alliance military because of me, stood for her Spectre candidacy because of me. I could have had her for the asking since she was seventeen, she's made that _abundantly_ clear."

"So why haven't you?" I let go of his arm and leaned back, smiling gently. "She certainly fits your taste in human females. She reminds me a lot of Ash."

"I can see the resemblance," he agreed. "She's a remarkable young woman."

"So why not?"

"Because she's not in love with _me_, she's in love with _the Shepard_. Because I would despise myself if I took advantage of that." He sighed. "And because she isn't you."

I shook my head in silence.

"It's the same with every other woman I met on Mindoir. I could have had a _harem_ if I wanted one. I just wouldn't have been able to live with myself afterward . . . and none of them would have been enough." He glanced back up to the stage, empty for the moment between acts. "You know, I came down here half-tempted to find someone. A night with one of the dancers, maybe, or some fresh-faced _hetaira_ from a good house. Someone I could pretend was the brilliant asari maiden I fell in love with four hundred years ago. But I suppose that wouldn't have worked either."

"Maybe you should try."

He peered at me, like a startled avian. "You _can't_ be serious."

"Of course I am. We asari don't think about sex the way most of you humans seem to. It's not so fraught with consequence for us. I'm not sure why. Maybe it's because we don't have the same gender-politics issues, or because we can't conceive a child without a conscious decision. It doesn't matter. If a short liaison with no need for commitment would be good for you, no one would think to question it."

"Not even you?" he demanded.

"Least of all me." I sighed. "Shepard, I find I have a confession to make."

He smiled slightly. "I'm listening."

"I still love you. More than I can say. I've remembered you, and wondered about you, and wished to see you again, ever since that conservation aboard _Harbinger_. I want very much for you to be happy and at peace. So if a talented young _hetaira_ could heal your heart, no one would be more pleased than I."

"Then if you don't worry about sex the same way humans do . . ."

I held up a hand to stop him. "Shepard, we asari may not take _sex_ as seriously as humans do, but I assure you there are other things we may take even _more_ seriously than humans do. Love. Honesty in our romantic relationships. Personal integrity."

He saw what I meant. "Vara."

"Vara. I love her too, Shepard. Perhaps not in the same manner that I love you, but certainly not to any lesser degree. She's been my strong right hand, my loyal support, the mother of my daughters. I _cannot_ set her aside. Not even for you."

"I know." Slowly he nodded, as if discovering within himself an understanding of the situation. "I wouldn't ask you to do that."

"The irony is that _she _might_ step_ aside, if she became convinced that was what I wanted. She's been in my mind so many times, she knows perfectly well how I still feel about you. She admires you as well."

"I feel the same way. I don't know her nearly as well as you do, of course, but I've always liked and respected her. We got along pretty well, during the war."

I smiled, remembering. "Aside from one or two epic arguments."

"All of which were driven by her concern for you, as I recall. I've never had any trouble forgiving her for that."

"So you understand. We asari aren't as committed to monogamy as you humans, but we do place a great deal of emphasis on _honesty_ within our love-relationships. We have to. It's almost impossible for us to lie to those we love. Even the attempt can be fatal to a bond."

"Yeah, I get it." He shook his head in frustration. "What a mess."

"Yes."

We sat in companionable silence for a while, both of us watching a musical performance up on the stage. To my amusement, I realized the musicians were playing something influenced by a human style called _jazz._

_I feel like a cliché. The femme fatale in a piece of film noir, sitting here in the small hours of the morning with a former lover, listening to Dixieland._

Most of the tension in the air had evaporated, and I found I could almost relax. After a while, Shepard set down his empty tumbler once more, and shifted his weight as if preparing to rise.

"Thanks for listening to me," he said.

"Feeling any better?"

"Not really, T'Soni, but I begin to think I can cope with the situation again." He held out a hand in invitation. "Friends?"

I took his hand and squeezed it hard. "Always, Shepard."

"Good. Let's go back to the estate before your security detail has a collective fit."

"No _hetaira?_ I'd be happy to make the necessary arrangements . . ."

He snorted. "I'll just bet you would. No, I think I'll take a rain check on that."

"All right."

We rose from the table, Shepard waving his hand at the credit reader to settle his tab.

_{Vara? We're finished here. We'll be out in a moment.}_

Then I had to stop, because no response came back through my _daimon_.

_{Vara? Tania?}_

Shepard stopped, watching me. He must have seen something in my face.

"Something's wrong," I told him. "I can't reach the others who should be waiting outside."

He turned, looked out toward the cabaret's front entrance. His face went blank for a moment, as if he concentrated on something no one else could perceive.

"Someone's out there," he said quietly. "Come on. I think we're under attack."


	16. The Wrecking Crew

_**7 November 2580, Eurotas District, Armali/Thessia**_

"Out the back," Shepard decided, taking my hand and setting out for the cabaret's service area.

"Shepard, if someone has laid a trap for us, won't they be expecting that?"

"Probably," he admitted, "but I need to get outside for a minute or so, and our options for staying under cover are better back there."

"But . . ."

"Liara. I'm multi-tasking. _Give me a minute."_

I kept quiet and followed him. The cabaret's service staff looked startled when we barged through their area, but something in Shepard's face prevented any argument. We moved too quickly for anyone to get in our way.

We found the facility's loading dock, the back door closed but blinking a sudden green as Shepard stepped up to it. He opened the door in perfect silence.

"Out and to the right," he instructed me. "Hurry."

I obeyed, wondering for a moment just how he knew exactly what to do. Somehow I suspected there was more to it than his old military training in decisiveness under pressure.

Down a short ramp, hurrying to get out from under a light shining above the cabaret's back door. I found myself in a back alley, narrow and dark, but clean as such places usually are on Thessia.

"Hah!" he grunted. "I've got Vara. She and the others got suckered out of position by a message with your authentication codes attached to it. She's on her way. ETA less than two minutes."

Unfortunately we didn't get two minutes.

Blue light flared as Shepard's kinetic barriers shed an incoming round. Both of us instinctively went for cover, drawing our sidearms and preparing to shoot back.

_Crack!_ Stone shards spalled off the pavement where I had been standing only a moment before.

"Sniper!" I warned, peeking out for just an instant, and then ducking back as I saw a targeting laser slice through the air toward my position.

"Yeah, I noticed," said Shepard, perfectly calm. "Asari commandos. Five of them. Two snipers well back, a biotic specialist, and two assault specialists. The last three will be charging us at any moment."

"_Eulalalia!"_

Three slim black-clad figures sprinted up the alley toward us, like scraps of the night given form.

I slammed down a barrier and fired a three-round burst with my sidearm. Shepard fired as well from his position across the alley.

We scored hits, but the enemy took them on their barriers and barely paused. Two of them vaulted over Shepard's cover. The third came for me, with a combat knife at the ready, and then I didn't have time for anything but staying alive.

Duck under a vicious slash, produce a biotic surge to knock the assassin back, flash-step to one side. Remember the snipers, realize you are out from behind cover, and go into an outrageous _cycle_ of flash-steps. _Snap-snap-snap_, effectively _teleporting_ a meter at a time back to better cover, a sniper's round cracking the pavement again an instant behind me, the assassin following the whole way.

Glimpse of Shepard fighting, a blur of fists and biotic strikes, keeping two commandos at bay.

Combat knife hissing past my face as I lean back, opening a great slash across my cheek that I don't even feel until the air hits it, and then it _stings_. _Boom_ and my biotics surge to their maximum, a blue-white pulse that knocks everything in my vicinity back about two meters, including the assassin. She recovers quickly, shifts her weight, and makes a graceful leap for my throat.

_Mistake._

Quick as a flash I shift a few centimeters to my right, duck _under_ the stabbing knife, and seize the assassin by shoulder and hip. _"Ai!"_ and I use her momentum against her, a perfect _cheironomia_ throw that slams her into the stone wall two meters behind me.

It doesn't stop her, but it slows her down for a moment. Long enough for me to glance in Shepard's direction, just in time to see a silver streak fall out of the night sky, apparently attacking him. For an instant I fear it's another facet of the enemy's assault, but then I see his _armor_ sliding around his form, covering his limbs, his torso, his head. His weapon appears in his right hand.

_Crack! Crack!_

A sound pulls my attention back to my attacker, back on her feet and ready for another round, perhaps looking a little shakier this time. A flurry of blows, blocked with arm-strikes, deflected with biotics, one slash ripping through my light armor to place a shallow wound along my ribs.

"_Liara! Down!"_

Old reflexes kick in and I throw myself to the pavement.

_Crack!_

All I could see was the assassin's feet. They suddenly stopped moving, and then her entire body fell limply backward to the ground. I came back to my feet, looked at her face, and immediately wished I hadn't. I saw a tiny entry wound exactly between her eyes. The back half of her head was a purple smear against the wall behind where she had been standing.

_Instant head-shot kill, straight through her shields and barriers. What __**is**__ that weapon of his?_

"Come on," came Shepard's voice. "I want to catch one of those snipers before they disengage."

I glanced at the two asari who had engaged him, both of them lying very finally on the ground. Then I hurried to keep up with the silver statue.

"Are you all right?" I asked, only slightly out of breath.

"A few bruises. Nothing my nanotech can't cure. You?"

"She got a little closer than I care for." I glanced at him, daring him to take notice of the wound on my face. "I'll be fine."

"You say so, T'Soni." Then his voice shifted, turned into a growl. _"Get down!"_

We took cover just at the end of the alley, even Shepard crouching in his armor, peering out across an open street.

"What is it?" I asked.

"Up ahead. The snipers were hanging around a little longer than I expected, once we dealt with the assault team. Now I see why. They're baiting a trap."

"More commandos?"

"Quite a few more, across that street and in the park on the other side." He paused for consideration. "Liara, I want to try something, but I need you and Vara to agree to it before I'm willing to take the risk. Hang on, I think I can reset your _daimon_ so we can talk."

He didn't touch me, or even give the appearance of looking at me, but _something_ happened. I blinked as a sensation of cold clarity washed through my mind.

_{Dr. T'Soni. I am online once more. Mr. Shepard was able to rid me of a malware set I was not even aware had taken residence in my primary processing stack.}_

_{Good. Vara?}_

_{Here.}_

_{Ladies, I want more information. They're laying a trap for us. I propose we walk into it.}_

I expected Vara to explode, but she surprised me. _{They can't know much about your capabilities, especially with that armor of yours.}_

_{My thought exactly. We meet on this side of the street. I'll reconfigure the armor so it's not easily visible. We walk across into that park as if we're pursuing the snipers as they disengage. Then as soon as they take the bait, we demonstrate that we have a lot more fangs and teeth than they expected. Meanwhile, I turn the tables and drop a Reaper-level virus into __**their**__ comm net.}_

_{I like it,}_ said Vara. _{Just one thing. Keep Liara safe.}_

_{No argument from me. She's got six of us to watch out for her now. Liara?}_

_{I concur. Let's do this.}_

So Shepard and I walked out into the streetlights, looking like two easy targets, relieved to meet Vara and the rest of my security detail. All of us made a show of looking around and arguing our next move, then crossing the street in nothing like our usual tight formation. I worried that we might be overacting, making our intentions a little _too_ obvious.

About twenty meters into the apparently deserted park, and I saw our plan would work. Black-clad figures emerged from cover on all sides.

Rather than dive for our own cover, Vara and I immediately put up a biotic _bubble_, a protective field to surround our whole party. Shepard triggered his armor, the silver sheath seeming to snap into existence around him in an instant. Then all of us turned to fight.

The bubble didn't _stop_ incoming fire, but it deflected and blocked a great deal of it, giving us an advantage. It also tended to overload the barriers of any biotics who charged our position, making them easier prey.

That quiet little park seemed to tremble with the sound of gunfire and biotic detonations, like a barrage of thunder that kept on rolling across the Armali streets. Shepard's weapon provided punctuation, a supersonic _crack_ every few seconds to hammer at a foe's defenses. Asari commandos began to go down, one after another.

_The city militia __**have**__ to be aware that there's something going on here. Our attackers can't have more than two or three minutes to attain their objectives._

I counted attackers, and gave up when I reached an even dozen.

_Fifteen seconds._

One of my acolytes took a bullet in her shoulder, going down with a scream of frustrated pain.

_Thirty seconds._

Vara and I alternated rebuilding the bubble, each time it threatened to collapse.

_Forty-five seconds._

The noose around our position grew tighter. I found myself fighting back-to-back-to-back with Shepard and Vara. My corona burned high, flinging warps and singularities at our foes. Shepard turned slowly, looking in every direction at once, biotic shockwaves and fire from his weapon slicing down anyone foolish enough to approach in the clear. Vara danced, her sword flashing as she cut and slashed, using the weapon every few moments to channel a great surge of biotic force.

_Sixty seconds._

A tremendous _roar_ from out of the darkness.

My eye had become accustomed to asari attackers, slim and agile. Now something _huge_ came pelting out of the darkness, roaring as it came, every few steps firing a shotgun the size of a small cannon.

_Krogan!_

The new attacker was _fast_ for all his size. He sprinted into our bubble without a moment's hesitation, a blue-white flare showing where his biotic barriers absorbed the energy but refused to go down. One more shotgun blast took Shepard right in the center of mass, and even in his armor it knocked him back two steps. Then the krogan collided with him, a great smashing blow that would probably have broken every bone in my body.

Shepard dropped back two more steps, then three, and fell.

Out of the bubble.

The krogan battlemaster found himself in the middle of a storm of biotic bursts and weapons fire, all five of us unwounded asari doing our best to put him down. Somehow he remained on his feet, snarling, his barriers blazing like a star to absorb everything we gave him.

Movement, out of the corner of my eye . . .

I glanced over to where Shepard rose to his feet, ready to throw himself back into the fight.

Just in time to see _another _new figure lurking just behind him. Clad all in black, but not an asari, the body shape and posture were all wrong. I saw nothing but two red eyes gleaming beneath a voluminous hood.

I started to shout a warning.

The newcomer _flash-charged_ Shepard in a flare of reddish light, but it didn't collide with him, it appeared to teleport _through_ him. The moment it reappeared, it continued to run in the same direction, disappearing back into the shadows in a few seconds.

The krogan's shotgun barked once more, catching Pala and turning her torso into bloody scraps. This opened a gap in our cordon, which he used to charge back out into the night.

At almost the same instant, the remaining commandos disengaged as well, a fighting retreat that left us alone in the darkness. In the sudden quiet, I could hear the sound of the Armali militia's emergency sirens as they rushed through the streets toward us.

"What just happened?" asked Vara.

I turned to Shepard once more. Saw him wavering on his feet. Saw him collapse to the ground once more.

"_Shepard!"_

* * *

_**7 November 2580, T'Soni Lineage Estates, Armali/Thessia**_

"_What are your casualties?" _asked Matriarch Thekla.

"One of my acolytes, Pala Sanderis, is dead," I told her, my voice bleak with shock and fatigue. "Another, Karis Terelo, is badly wounded and is in the hospital. Several of the rest of us took less serious wounds."

"_I see you were one of them."_

Sitting at the desk in my office, I reached up to touch the side of my face, the pad of medi-gel sealing the wound, already beginning to heal it. "It looks worse than it is. I'll be fine."

"_What about Shepard?"_

"He's safe. Miranda has him resting under observation at the moment, but she's confident he has taken no serious harm. Whatever poison that turian cabalist introduced into his system, it was very powerful – it would likely have killed any of the rest of us in seconds – but it only incapacitated Shepard for a few minutes. His internal technology is very effective at protecting him from toxins."

"_Thank the Goddess."_

"Matriarch, I have some information for you. Even during the fight, Shepard managed to hack into the enemy's comm net and pull down a number of files. Including the contract under which the Black Hand sisters had been hired to make the hit. Ms. Sarabhai recognized something in their content."

Thekla's eyes shifted to take in the former Spectre, who stepped up beside my desk.

"The Black Hand was hired by two people, Matriarch," said Kamala. "Varag Tachar and Alia Nerinn."

"_A krogan and a turian,"_ observed Thekla. _"Most likely the two who participated in the attack."_

"Yes. Matriarch, I have reason to recognize both those names. They're Spectres."

Thekla's eyes went wide with surprise. _"A krogan Spectre?"_

"He's the first. Incredibly strong, galaxy-class biotics, very fast for a krogan, and he _thinks_. Fanatically loyal to the Citadel Confederation. He was one of Urdnot Wrex's protégées during the unification of Tuchanka, right up there with Urdnot Grunt. I will bet five hundred credits that he planned every step of the attack last night. He often partners with Nerinn, who came to the Spectres from the turian cabals. Together they have a very big reputation in the Corps, although most of their ops are sealed, so the general public never hears about them." Kamala paused. "We privately call them _the Wrecking Crew_._"_

"_An evocative name."_

Kamala looked grim. "They're the ones called in when the Confederation needs a problem solved, right now and by the application of extreme force."

"_Dr. T'Soni, what are your conclusions?"_

"I have no conclusions as yet, but I do find it interesting that President Yao's targeting has shifted. On the Citadel, he used human proxies to attack Vara and me. Last night, although the two of us certainly came under attack, the primary target was clearly Shepard. If it were not for his internal technology, he would be dead now. If any of the rest of us had been the primary target, _we_ would be dead now."

"_Also notice that the President should know that we are capable of identifying his agents,"_ said the Matriarch. _"That suggests that he is so desperate to see Shepard dead that he is willing to risk almost anything to have it done."_

"Yes." I took a deep breath. "Matriarch, do you believe you can continue to work the political side of this without my direct assistance?"

"_Your help would be very useful, but no, I can handle the politics well enough. Especially if you give me this evidence to work with. Spectres attack one of our most prominent citizens, so soon after she leveled serious accusations against the Confederation? With this in hand, if I cannot gather more than enough support for our position, I may as well retire."_

I gave her a lop-sided smile, not wanting to disturb the medi-gel. "I suspected as much. Then I believe _Normandy_ will be leaving Thessia within a few hours. We need to get out into the galaxy and discover more about this threat. What we learn will be useful on the home front. Not to mention that President Yao may find it more difficult to strike at a moving target."

"_A sound strategy. Please keep me informed."_

"Matriarch, on another matter . . . have you given any further consideration to Shepard's other proposal?"

"_This matter of the sharing of his blood?"_ Thekla shook her head ruefully. _"Liara, we can't bring that forward yet. We're already asking the asari people to accept a great deal."_

"I understand," I said, glancing at Kamala. She shrugged, a resigned expression on her face. "One of the things we will study is Shepard's internal technology. If we can discover _how_ his nanotechnology grants him immunity to the Adversary's influence . . ."

"_Then there would be time to bring your results to the Assembly."_ Thekla smiled at me. _"I am certain you and your allies will succeed. Your record in such matters is enviable, especially with Shepard involved."_

"Thank you, Matriarch. We will be in contact."

I keyed the display off and turned to look up at Kamala.

She had _not_ been happy to hear about the incident – all of us, and especially her hero, in danger while she slept peacefully in her room at the estate. Now she stood at parade rest, not quite watching me, her face keeping her thoughts well concealed.

"Ms. Sarabhai, you haven't answered my question," I said mildly.

Slowly, she smiled. "With all due respect, Doctor, wild horses could not drag me away."

"Good. I have issue with some of your actions so far, but I think we can put that behind us, and there's no denying your support will be useful. It's a dangerous galaxy out there."

"True. Sometimes you're going to need some old-fashioned human bloody-mindedness."

"We'll have Shepard," I pointed out.

She cocked her head in thought. "Not to say he's lost any of his legendary edge, mind you, but I think he's become less of an attack dog since you knew him in the old days."

I snorted. "You would describe yourself as an attack beast?"

"Absolutely." Her smile became wide and unrestrained. "All of us need to play to our strengths."

"I concur." I rose from the desk. "Come on. Let's go find the others."

We found Shepard and Vara sitting in one of the dining nooks, each of them with a cup of coffee, engaged in serious conversation. I couldn't tell the subject, since they fell silent as soon as we appeared.

_Hmm. I should ask Vara about that later. Or perhaps I should __**avoid**__ asking Vara about it._

I smiled at the two of them. "Shepard, you're looking well."

"Miranda says I'm fine," he rumbled. "Right now I'm feeling the lack of sleep more than anything else. I guess not even all this Reaper tech can compensate for that."

"Or perhaps it refuses to do that unless it's an emergency," Vara suggested. "If _I_ were designing bionic modifications, I would work with the host's natural systems as far as possible."

"The Reapers never used to do that," Kamala mused. "Very _invasive_ tech, from all I've seen."

"The Reapers never used to care what happened to their pawns," said Shepard bleakly. "Raw material for the harvest, to be discarded the moment they weren't needed any more. Now the Intelligence has new motives, and it's had four hundred years to develop better methods."

"Have you spoken to Matriarch Thekla?" asked Vara.

I nodded. "I have. She's ready to proceed . . . which means we should prepare to depart aboard _Normandy_ as soon as possible."

"Where do you have in mind to go?" asked Shepard, taking a sip of his coffee.

"Well, we need to understand more about what this Adversary is, what its motives are, how it takes action in the galaxy. We knew absolutely nothing about it until you appeared. I can attest that there is nothing relevant in the asari archives . . . which are _not_ in the business of concealing critical information anymore, I've _personally_ seen to that." I spread my hands in a broad shrug. "We need a longer baseline, stretching back into the deep past."

"I agree. So where do we get that?"

"Senakhar." I smiled at them all. "The Prothean homeworld."


End file.
